She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. ” She stared before her, trying to keep back a rush of tears. “But we only aid the beccamorti by giving them our business! I refuse to pay exorbitant prices for wood coffins and burial for lesser servants who could just as easily be dragged into the pit! Let the dead bury the dead!” “You fool! It is the gross lack of sanitation you speak of that has brought us to this very end. You are a detective?" "Yes. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed.
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