“It is unimportant,” she said. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. “It is nothing of any importance. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. “When it comes there is no mistaking it. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines.
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