Ineffable sadness of a mere window!
And his eye fell--fell on the coffin of Henry Leek with its white cross,
and the representative of England's majesty standing beside it. And
there was the end of Priam Farll's self-control. A pang like a pang of
parturition itself seized him, and an issuing sob nearly ripped him in
two. It was a loud sob, undisguised, unashamed, reverberating. Other
sobs succeeded it. Priam Farll was in torture.
_A New Hat_
The organist vaulted over his seat, shocked by the outrage.
"You really mustn't make that noise," whispered the organist.
Priam Farll shook him off.
The organist was apparently at a loss what to do.
"Who is it?" whispered one of the young men.
"Don't know him from Adam!" said the organist with conviction, and then
to Priam Farll: "Who are you? You've no right to be here. Who gave you
permission to come up here?"
And the rending sobs continued to issue from the full-bodied ridiculous
man of fifty, utterly careless of decorum.
"It's perfectly absurd!" whispered the youngster who had whispered
before.
There had been a silence in the choir.
"Here! They're waiting for you!" whispered the other young man excitedly
to the organist.
"By----!" whispered the alarmed organist, not stopping to say by what,
but leaping like an acrobat back to his seat.
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