The priest normally assigned the duty in the Iovelli family had fled days before from the chapel. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. . Now keep still. Lord, I am sixty. “What do you mean?” Lucy asked. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. I shall count it a privilege. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. But his words were borne away by the driving wind.
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