Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. Wood hadn't struck me. She danced with two others. He slackened his pace as he reached the flat. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you.
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