She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage.
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