but her eyes were unwavering -- they held an appeal
to his understanding, his sympathy, not to be mistaken.
It was evident that that gaze cost her an
effort. She was, Gordon remembered, a diffident
girl. His resentment evaporated... He speculated
upon her reason for coming; and, speculating,
involuntarily stood more erect. With a swift, surreptitious
motion he straightened his necktie.

The Greenstream cemetery lay aslant on a rise
above the village. From the side of the raw, yellow
clay hole into which they lowered the coffin
Gordon could see, beyond the black form of the minister,
over the rows of uneven roofs, the bulk of the
Courthouse, the sweep of the valley, glowing with
multifarious vitality.

"Dust to dust," said the minister; "ashes to
ashes," in the midst of the warm, the resplendent,
the palpitating day. One of Gordon's nephews --
a shock of tow hair rising rebellious against an application
of soap, stubby, scarred hands, shoes obviously
come by in their descent from more mature
extremities -- who had been audibly snuffling for the
past ten minutes, burst into a lugubrious, frightened
wail. Through the solemn, appointed periods of
the minister cut the sibilant, maternal promise of a
famous "whopping."

[[91]]

p090 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p091w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p092

v?