The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. The lady looked them over in silence, and then pouting lips trembled, dark eyelashes fluttered, and in a broken voice, she pleaded, ‘Honoured messieurs, you will not allow this—this pig, to be thus cruel? He cannot arrest me. Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment?” “Quite true!” she answered. Listen, it is I.
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