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 in some incomprehensible way, Ramage was confused with Capes; she had a grotesque disposition to persuade herself that this was really Capes who surrounded her, as it were, with wings of desire. "Clean and spotless, but beginning to show the wear and tear of constant use. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. ‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. And if she was ever found living in the area like that, homeless, John could somehow find out.
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