John lifted, and with a wild fumbling impatience the whole of Emily’s body was covered. Only the head and one arm were left. They had forgotten the arm. It lay flung out away from the body, half hidden under an overcoat. Stephen seized it savagely and tried to bend it in under the mouth of the sack, with brutal ridiculous tugs, like an ill-tempered man packing an overloaded bag. John watched him with growing disapproval.

“That’s no good,” he said. “Pull down the sack again.”

Stephen did so. The sweat now was running down his face; he was spent and panting, and his composure was all gone. With his black hair ruffled over his forehead he looked wicked.