She rose to the fire to stoke it. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. She recalled that she had heard nothing that first time when Gerald and the captain had burst in upon her.
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