For ever requiem--repose.

Tired with scrubbing the steps of the Prudential Society's office, which she did year in year out, Mrs.
Lidgett took her seat beneath the great Duke's tomb, folded her hands, and half closed her eyes.

A magnificent place for an old woman to rest in, by the very side of the great Duke's bones, whose victories mean nothing to her, whose name she knows not, though she never fails to greet the little angels opposite, as she passes out, wishing the like on her own tomb, for the leathern curtain of the heart has flapped wide, and out steal on tiptoe thoughts of rest, sweet melodies....

Old Spicer, jute merchant, thought nothing of the kind though.

Strangely enough he'd never been in St.Paul's these fifty years, though his office windows looked on the churchyard.