“It seemed that the death of Morris Weitz unleashed something in the ship, set it free to prey on us. For that night, one of the St. Louis crewmen, a kitchen hand named Leonid Berg, leapt to his death in the exact spot where we had committed Professor Weitz to the sea.”
“So how could they grasp the plight of their elder daughter? For six long years after graduation Florence had to live with her parents in Carroll Gardens, and that big blot of nothingness still blighted her résumé.”
“This was my last glimpse of Marrow Island before the boat pulled away: brown and green uniforms clustered on the beach, tramping up the hill to the chapel and through the trees to the cottages of Marrow Colony. The boat wasn’t moving yet, but the uniforms already seemed to be getting smaller, receding from my sight, shrinking into a diorama, a miniature scene of the crime.”