The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. "Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full.
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