175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. “The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett. “Okay. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. At six o'clock, the wicket was shut; and at nine, the jail was altogether locked up. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
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