When they had lifted the body and put it in the box, they stopped involuntarily to look, before the girl laid a handkerchief upon the face.

There lay a stalwart, grey-haired man--dead.
Perhaps he had sinned deeply in his life; perhaps he had lived as nobly as his place and knowledge would permit--they could not tell.

Probably they each estimated what they knew of his life from a different standpoint.

The face was as ashen as the grey hair about it, as the grey clothes the body wore.

They stood and looked at it--those three, who were bound to each other by no tie except such as the accident of time and place had wrought.