As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. Spurlock halted in his tracks. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. There was a little pain, but it wasn’t anything.
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