The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr.
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