`Youshouldtry，’repliedthewidow，fromthesereneheightsofasoulconsciousnotonlyofspiritualbutofsocialsuperiority。`Imakenoboastofmyawakening，butI’mnotwhatIwas。AfterCartlett’sdeathIwaspassingthechapelinthestreetnextours，andwentintoitforshelterfromashowerofrain。Ifeltaneedofsomesortofsupportundermyloss，and，as’twasrighterthangin，Itooktogoingthereregular，andfounditagreatcomfort。ButI’veleftLondonnow，youknow，andatpresentIamlivingatAlfredston，withmyfriendAnny，tobenearmyownoldcountry。I’mnotcomeheretothefairto-day。There’stobethefoundation-stoneofanewchapellaidthisafternoonbyapopularLondonpreacher，andI
droveoverwithAnny。NowImustgobacktomeether。’
ThenArabellawishedSuegood-bye，andwenton。
JudetheObscureChapter42V-viiiIntheafternoonSueandtheotherpeoplebustlingaboutKennetbridgefaircouldhearsinginginsidetheplacardedhoardingfartherdownthestreet。
Thosewhopeepedthroughtheopeningsawacrowdofpersonsinbroadcloth，withhymn-booksintheirhands，standingroundtheexcavationsforthenewchapel-walls。ArabellaCartlettandherweedsstoodamongthem。Shehadaclear，powerfulvoice，whichcouldbedistinctlyheardwiththerest，risingandfallingtothetune，herinflatedbosombeingalsoseendoinglikewise。