It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. Ramage did not know. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. ’ Grudgingly, the sergeant shifted aside and allowed her access to the stairs, grumbling to her retreating back, ‘If I’d me way, missie, I’d send you back to France where you ought never to have come away from, if you arst me. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow.
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