The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. “Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. It was hard to resist. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites.
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