The door closed softly upon her. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. The perception of him flooded her being. ” “Oh, no, please, no!” She reeled in shock and started 226 to back away from the open crypt. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved.
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