"A bad business this, Van," observed Baptist, with a prolonged shake of the head. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. But when she saw the car, her body filled with dread, for it gave her a bad feeling. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. “Very big steps, moves fast. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step.
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