The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. He was aware of Hilary, in company with Lucilla and the comtesse’s daughter some few yards away, listening in suddenly. The youth with his hair like Russell cleared his throat and said rather irrelevantly that he knew a man who knew Thomas Bayard Simmons, who had rioted in the Strangers’ Gallery, and then Capes, finding them all distinctly pro-Ann Veronica, if not profeminist, ventured to be perverse, and started a vein of speculation upon the Scotchman’s idea—that there were still hopes of women evolving into something higher. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. “She can’t go now. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him.
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