The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. "That's it!" cried Wild when Trenchard concluded. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. We had better have it over. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart.
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