clods on a coffin, and the dreariness returned. Then there was another
hymn and a prolonged moan from the harmonium, to which mysterious
suggestion the congregation rose and began slowly to file into the
aisle. For a moment they mingled; there was the silent grasping of damp
woollen mittens and cold black gloves, and the whispered interchange
of each other's names with the prefix of "Brother" or "Sister," and
an utter absence of fraternal geniality, and then the meeting slowly
dispersed.

The few who had waited until the minister had resumed his hat, overcoat,
and overshoes, and accompanied him to the door, had already passed out;
the sexton was turning out the flickering gas jets one by one, when the
cold and austere silence was broken by a sound--the unmistakable echo of
a kiss of human passion.

As the horror-stricken official turned angrily, the figure of a man
glided from the shadow of the stairs below the organ loft, and vanished
through the open door. Before the sexton could follow, the figure of a
woman slipped out of the same portal and with a hurried glance after the
first retreating figure, turned in the opposite direction and was lost
in the darkness. By the time the indignant and scandalized custodian had
reached the portal, they had both melted in the troubled sea of
tossing umbrellas already to the right and left of him, and pursuit and
recognition were hopeless.




CHAPTER II