Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. It is at the lodge that we stay.
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