tales—all fairy tales. When you're dead, you're dead, and that's the last of it, take my word for that."
Penelope was not a religious fanatic, but her few pious beliefs experienced a little resentful shock at the man's outspoken words. She haughtily drew her shoulders up, the kind expression faded from her face, leaving it less attractive, and she was conscious of a little feeling of repulsion for the unbelieving Morgue keeper. Not that the keeper's ideas were so foreign to those that had visited her own mind. She had many times felt dubious on such subjects herself, but she had always felt it to be her duty to kill doubt and trust in that which was taught her concerning the life hereafter.
Penelope joined her aunt and Richard Treadwell, where they stood under a shade tree opposite the Morgue waiting her.
In a few words she told what she wished
