” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. But also this must not go on. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. Sydney sprang up. Acne sprayed her cheeks in a fine red spatter where it intermingled with brown freckles.
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