It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. 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. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. By the middle of July he was in full health. \"I'd like some popcorn. "Come and sit down by me.
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