Hours were spent in preparation for the event. Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other. We had no idea. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered.
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