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Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. How did you get your luggage out of the house? Wasn’t it—wasn’t it rather in some respects—rather a lark? It’s one of my regrets for my lost youth. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame.

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