"It was this way," he said. "I tole her the
night before, I says to her..." The reminiscence ended in a sob.
Mr. Miles had been getting into his coat again. He came up to Charity,
who had remained passively kneeling by the rough mound of earth.
"My child, you must come. It's very late."
She lifted her eyes to his face: he seemed to speak out of another
world.
"I ain't coming: I'm going to stay here."
"Here? Where? What do you mean?"
"These are my folks. I'm going to stay with them."
Mr. Miles lowered his voice. "But it's not possible--you don't know what
you are doing. You can't stay among these people: you must come with
me."
She shook her head and rose from her knees. The group about the grave
had scattered in the darkness, but the old woman with the lantern stood
waiting. Her mournful withered face was not unkind, and Charity went up
to her.
"Have you got a place where I can lie down for the night?" she asked.
Liff came up, leading the buggy out of the night. He looked from one
to the other with his feeble smile.
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