On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. The dress of this person was excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding-habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style. Have the goodness to affix your name to that memorandum, Sir Rowland. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. I was rude and stupid.
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