But Ursula was already tugging at the iron bars, and withdrew her hand, grimacing at the stripe of moisture across the doeskin gauntlet. She felt that it would have been becoming in Mary to show some sign of concern. But Mary only said quietly:
"You should have let me do it."
Ursula walked on for a little way in silence. Then she asked:
"Will you go to the funeral to-morrow?"
"Yes. If you'll excuse me for that time. It won't take long."
"Do you go to all their funerals?"
"The people in the village? Yes, mostly."
"Mary, how can you?"
"Why shouldn't I? I don't mind."
"Funerals are so beastly depressing. If you go to a lot you'll get morbid and queer."