” Lucy gestured to the rough plywood floor. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. “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. Give me the keys and the light. ’ ‘I have found Mary Remenham’s daughter,’ he repeated. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. Finally she fell into reflection. How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him.
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