She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. “Bless you, sweetheart. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. I've got the watch-spring saw in my sleeve.
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