Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. 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. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror.
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