Her confession was still unmade. "There he is!" "I fear not," said her father, with a doubtful shake of the head. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. And talking of every conceivable thing. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was. Your life is like a funeral March.
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