‘I have first some affairs to finish. "Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. Nevertheless Sydney, clumsily, but earnestly, had something to say about it. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. CHAPTER III. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Seeing provisions in the window, Jack ventured in and bought a loaf.
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