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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"The Descent of Man and Other Stories"

Then she fell back, and I saw the
death-flutter pass over her....
We buried her on the third day, in a driving snow-storm. There were
few people in the church, for it was bad weather to come from town,
and I've a notion my mistress was one that hadn't many near friends.
Mr. Ranford was among the last to come, just before they carried her
up the aisle. He was in black, of course, being such a friend of the
family, and I never saw a gentleman so pale. As he passed me, I
noticed that he leaned a trifle on a stick he carried; and I fancy
Mr. Brympton noticed it too, for the red spot came out sharp on his
forehead, and all through the service he kept staring across the
church at Mr. Ranford, instead of following the prayers as a mourner
should.
When it was over and we went out to the graveyard, Mr. Ranford had
disappeared, and as soon as my poor mistress's body was underground,
Mr. Brympton jumped into the carriage nearest the gate and drove off
without a word to any of us. I heard him call out, "To the station,"
and we servants went back alone to the house.



THE MISSION OF JANE
I


LETHBURY, surveying his wife across the dinner table, found his
transient conjugal glance arrested by an indefinable change in her
appearance.
"How smart you look! Is that a new gown?" he asked.
Her answering look seemed to deprecate his charging her with the
extravagance of wasting a new gown on him, and he now perceived that
the change lay deeper than any accident of dress.


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