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Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “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. Likely as not outside the law, too. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. CHAPTER XX. “I think she would,” she decided.
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