He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. “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 in trouble,” he said. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. ‘Still, the comtesse has them well in hand.
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