The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. She was honest again. For a long time even the strong pipe tobacco (with which McClintock supplied him) possessed a coconut flavour. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. This also struck her as odd.
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