At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. ” “Sounds good. So your name must be Americanized? What country? It sounds Spanish. You're the first widow I ever heard of who could withstand that lure. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom.
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