In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions. They had not proceeded far when a low moan was heard. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “I am sick of it. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. I will light the stove, and there shall be some coffee presently. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it.
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