"As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. Pottiswick had mentioned muttering. It melted her heart. When he returned from pissing, he sat down with her. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. And you’re as clean as fire. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. Rowland felt himself sinking beneath the powerful grasp of his enemy. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies.
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