The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. CHAPTER XVII. “Yeah, I’ve heard that story. " Mechanically raising the potion to her lips, the poor creature swallowed it without hesitation. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. Yes, yes, there is no doubt about it. So soft. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. ” “It is an accident,” he answered. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed.
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