Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered.
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