He lay there, under the flickering candle-light, like some saint who at length, after a life of severe discipline, had entered into the joy of his Lord.

Beneath the bed was the big black box.
Maggie did not look at her father.

She sat there, near the dark window, her hands folded on her lap.

She thought of nothing at all except the rats.

She was not afraid of them but they worried her.