The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. There is a place—This isn’t the place. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine. Much to her annoyance, therefore, Winifred was left alone with the woollendraper, who following up a maxim of his own, "that nothing was gained by too much bashfulness," determined to profit by the opportunity. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so.
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