She must get to the vestry. “I’ll be hanged if I do. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. I can't invent; the thing won't come. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning.
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