The Ghost by Arnold Bennet Chapter 8 Page 5

“But surely you have been ill?” I said.

She tapped her foot. It was the first symptom of nervous impatience that I had observed in her.

“Not in body,” she replied curtly. “Tell me all about the funeral.”

And I gave her an account of the impressive incidents of the interment — the stately procession, the grandiose ritual, the symbols of public grief. She displayed a strange, morbid curiosity as to it all.

And then suddenly she rose up from her chair, and I rose also, and she demanded, as it were pushed by some secret force to the limit of her endurance:

“You loved him, didn’t you, Mr. Foster?”