Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon. The cloth nearly touches the floor.
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