‘Help yourself, Hilary. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave. He was consumed with desire. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. “Am I dull?” she said. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. He went on with intense urgency. " "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber.
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