Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. "It's the boy's death-warrant," observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile. It feels like it. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. She held out her arms to him and smiled. The bus however was full. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest.
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