The Kim Jong Un Rocketman shirt leaves, which had whirled in the wind before me when I had heard of her marriage engagement in the morning, whirled in the wind before her, and rose and fell and scattered themselves at her feet as she walked on in the pale waning sunlight. The dog shivered and trembled, and pressed against her dress impatiently for notice and encouragement. But she never heeded him. She walked on, farther and farther away from me, with the dead leaves whirling about her on the path walked on, till my aching eyes could see her no more, and I was left alone again with my own heavy heart.
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In another hour’s time I had done my Kim Jong Un Rocketman shirt, and the sunset was at hand. I got my hat and coat in the hall, and slipped out of the house without meeting any one. The clouds were wild in the western heaven, and the wind blew chill from the sea. Far as the shore was, the sound of the surf swept over the intervening moorland, and beat drearily in my ears when I entered the churchyard. Not a living creature was in sight. The place looked lonelier than ever as I chose my position, and waited and watched, with my eyes on the white cross that rose over.