The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney.
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