Not immortality did she ask for, but one more whisper from the lips that could not speak, one throb of the heart she had striven so despairingly to warm against her own.
Kate was plucking at her arm, for the service was over, and unconsciously she was impeding people who wished to pass from the seats.
With difficulty she rose and walked; the cold seemed to have checked the flow of her blood; she noticed the breath rising from her mouth, and wondered that she could have so much whilst those dear lips were breathless.

Then she was being led over hard snow, towards a place where men stood, where there was new-turned earth, where a coffin lay upon the ground.

She suffered the sound of more words which she could not follow, then heard the dull falling of clods upon hollow wood.

A hand seemed to clutch her throat, she struggled convulsively and cried aloud.

But the tears would not come.
No memory of the return home dwelt afterwards in her mind.