The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. E. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude.
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