She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. I was curious about that. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. She could not help herself. Chuck had did himself in because Chuck was a flaming homosexual. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. ’ Gerald tutted. The venturous climber gazed for a moment at the assemblage beneath, to ascertain that he was not discovered; and, having satisfied himself in this particular, he stepped out more boldly. “It’s okay.
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