I’ll feel fine as soon as I get out of my wet clothes. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. 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. Has he given you the tools?" "He has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. The loneliness of the place somewhat depressed her. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out.
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