CHAPTER XIVTHE GIRL AT THE GRAVE
The beautiful little Russian church was filled to the very doors for the solemn and stately ceremonial of Paula Rawson’s funeral service. Many representatives of royalty were there, Lord Warrington and several of his staff, cabinet ministers, ambassadors, peers—everyone who was “anyone” in the innermost circle of London society seemed to be present, except Sir Robert Rawson himself.
And yet to Austin Starr’s acutely sympathetic and impressionable mind it seemed that there were no mourners there; that all these distinguished people had assembled as a mere conventional duty, an expression of conventional respect and sympathy for the bereaved husband; that they cared nothing for the dead woman lying there in her coffin, under the magnificent purple pall. She
