They vanished through the doorway. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. " "Who made such a law?" "This world is governed by minorities—in politics, in religion, in society. It was no use. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. Sheppard prepared for church.
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