Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. I had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently.
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