Her linen gown was soft against the heavy skins. If I were to marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life—a sort of parasitical creature without blood or muscle. A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. Diane spoke first. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. She turned a resolute face southward. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard.
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