Sheppard found it; and, as no one opposed her, she at once took up her abode there; nor was she long in discovering that the dreaded sounds proceeded from the nocturnal gambols of a legion of rats. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. I want to be whatever I can to you.
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