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’
Stones
are
cold
to
my
feet
,
’
said
Neville
.
’
I
feel
each
one
,
round
or
pointed
,
separately
.
’
’
The
back
of
my
hand
burns
,
’
said
Jinny
,
’
but
the
palm
is
clammy
and
damp
with
dew
.
’
’
Now
the
cock
crows
like
a
spurt
of
hard
,
red
water
in
the
white
tide
,
’
said
Bernard
.
’
Birds
are
singing
up
and
down
and
in
and
out
all
round
us
,
’
said
Susan
.
’
The
beast
stamps
;
the
elephant
with
its
foot
chained
;
the
great
brute
on
the
beach
stamps
,
’
said
Louis
.
’
Look
at
the
house
,
’
said
Jinny
,
’
with
all
its
windows
white
with
blinds
.
’
’
Cold
water
begins
to
run
from
the
scullery
tap
,
’
said
Rhoda
,
’
over
the
mackerel
in
the
bowl
.
’
’
The
walls
are
cracked
with
gold
cracks
,
’
said
Bernard
,
’
and
there
are
blue
,
finger
-
shaped
shadows
of
leaves
beneath
the
windows
.
’
’
Now
Mrs
Constable
pulls
up
her
thick
black
stockings
,
’
said
Susan
.
’
When
the
smoke
rises
,
sleep
curls
off
the
roof
like
a
mist
,
’
said
Louis
.
