The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. He reached for her chin and lifted it up. This is not the conduct of a jeune demoiselle. “John’s here. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself.
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