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The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. “A bad thing for me when that legacy came. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. ’ She tried to shake his hands off her wrists, but Gerald held them fast and tutted at her. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
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