She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. 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. “Oh, I know you would stop me if you could. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley.
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