But she did not speak. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. Earles was absolutely indifferent. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. Prudence twinkled at them, and reached out to pat Melusine’s hand. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. The winters were terrible in cold climates, and she often had been driven to dig herself large underground pits where she waited it out like a mole in the cold months.
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