She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. Ramage. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it. '—'They can't,' says I. “But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel.
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