. 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. ” “Nor I. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. She tore open the envelope and read it. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much.
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