You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. “You have the temperament,” he said. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. He looked half at her and half at the sky. She noticed an odd new gleam in Michelle’s eyes, a focus she had not noticed before. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck.
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