" "He's coming!" cried Jack, stamping his foot, with vexation. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. Melusine was loath to admit how much more lonely since Gerald chose not to visit her. Half after six.
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