I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. 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. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. “‘Go it, missie,’ they said; “kick aht!’ “I swore at that policeman—and disgusted him. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him.
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