I have been thinking that there were no words fit to put above her grave.

No one but she herself could have written any that would be," and she was folding up the paper.
Stephen stretched out his hand.

"Pardon me," he said, "I cannot part with that.

I have brought a copy to leave with you," and he gave Lizzy another paper.
Mechanically she restored to him the first one, and gazed earnestly into his face.

Its worn and harrowed features, its look of graven patience, smote her like a cry.