There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. I dare say it will be chattered about for weeks. He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She can be of use to me yet.
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