“Mr. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. It doesn’t mean that these men deserve to die for whatever they have done, John. Fell to sin, did Martha.
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