Not at all. White and scared. Looked as if
she had seen a ghost."
The bishop was troubled by these words.
"Is that so?" he asked. "You alarm me. I think I'll be off this minute.
She is my cousin, you know; and I've been rather concerned about her
lately. Yes; I won't wait for the end of this funeral; I'll be off!
Perhaps we shall meet this evening. Then I can tell you her news. As to
deliberately cutting you--don't you believe that for a minute."
"I shall be down here about seven o'clock. . . ."
"People like her," thought Mr. Heard, as he fell out of the procession.
He would make a point of having a good long chat, and perhaps stay to
luncheon.
He dreaded the coming heat of midday. It was quite warm enough already,
as he climbed slowly upward by the short cuts that intersected the
driving road, availing himself of every little patch of shade that fell
from trees or cottages athwart the pathway.
The country seemed deserted, the funeral ceremony having attracted all
the natives from far and near.
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