The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. "I'm a detective; my ears and eyes have been trained to absorb all I see and all I hear. Where even to be a Catholic, they say, is to be looked upon with scorn and disgust. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. The bump was coarse and didn’t feel right. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing.
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