\" He leaned at a steeper pitch. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. But she could see that Diane watched her more closely now, and in a cat-like way. He had heard everything. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck.
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