I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. That is very certain. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Rummage, my boy, do. Besides, there's something odd about the boy; for, though I questioned him pretty closely concerning his business, he declined answering my questions, and said he could only deliver his message to her ladyship. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill.
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