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The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. I know who hits hardest. " "Then the sooner I'm off the better," cried Wood; "what's to pay, David?" "Don't affront me, Owen, by asking such a question," returned the landlord; "hadn't you better stop and finish the bottle?" "Not a drop more," replied Wood. Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote. 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. CHAPTER VIII.
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