They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. The bridesmaids and pages got rather jumbled in the aisle, and she had an effect of Alice’s white back and sloping shoulders and veiled head receding toward the altar. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had.
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