"Then you had better measure me," said Enid, turning a face absolutely
flaming red and deadly white to the speaker. "It is a dreadful, ghastly
business altogether, but I cannot possibly think of any other way. The
idea of anything like a struggle here is abhorrent.... And the dog's
fidelity is so touching. My sister and I were exactly alike, except that
she was fairer than me."

The undertaker was understood to demur slightly on professional grounds.
It was very irregular and not in the least likely to give satisfaction.

"What does it matter?" Enid cried, passionately. She was acting none the
less magnificently because her nerves were quivering like harpstrings.
"When I am dead you can fling me in a ditch, for all I care. We are a
strange family and do strange things. The question of satisfaction need
not bother you. Take my measure and send the coffin home to-morrow, and
we will manage to do the rest. Then to-morrow night you will have a
four-horse hearse here at eleven o'clock, and drive the coffin to
Churchfield Church, where you will be expected. After that your work will
be finished."

The bewildered young man responded that things should be exactly as the
young lady required. He had seen many strange and wild things in his
time, but none so strange and weird as this. It was all utterly
irregular, of course, but people after all had a right to demand what
they paid for. Enid watched the demure young man in black down the
corridor, and then everything seemed to be enveloped in a dense purple
mist, the world was spinning under her feet, there was a great noise like
the rush of mighty waters in her brain. With a great effort she threw off
the weakness and came to herself, trembling from head to foot.