was deeply hurt at the way in which Dick had been treated. Still she wanted to look on the face of the fair young girl, the cause of all the worriment, before she was taken to her grave.
"How dreadful!" exclaimed Penelope's aunt, as the keeper unbolted the door and waited, before he closed it, for them to enter the low room.
She tiptoed daintly over the stone floor—which, wet all over, had little streams formed in places flowing from different hose—holding her skirts up with one hand, and with the other hand held a perfumed handkerchief over her aristocratic nose. Penelope, with serious but calm face, kept close to the keeper, and Richard walked silently with the aunt.
"I thought the bodies lay on marble slabs," said Penelope, glancing at the row of plain, unpainted rough boxes set close together on iron supports.
