‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. 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. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it.
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