The sight was almost too much for me.

It seemed to be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to have stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living.

I actually took hold of his hand to stop him.
He only said, "You shall see," and again fumbling in his bag took out a tiny fret saw.

Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, he made a small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the point of the saw.

I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse.