The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. “That is where I got confused,” he said. He resented being regarded as irregular. ‘I’ll handle her better alone. ‘To where has he gone off?’ ‘No use asking me,’ shrugged the captain. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. ‘I know just what he was doing. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least.
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