The sunlight of noon beat and quivered in long lances through crimson and blue windows.

Then the functionaries began to form an aisle among the spectators, and emotion grew tenser.

The organ was silent for a moment, and when it recommenced its song the song was the supreme expression of human grief, the dirge of Chopin, wrapping the whole cathedral in heavy folds of sorrow.

And as that appeal expired in the pulsating air, the fresh voices of little boys, sweeter even than grief, rose in the distance.
It was at this point that Priam Farll descried Lady Sophia Entwistle, a tall, veiled figure, in full mourning.

She had come among the comparatively unprivileged to his funeral.