” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines. They all left the room. " "Oh, that!" she said, with a deprecating gesture. She was the actress his whim had chosen to play a passive part. He must be gone to dispose of the body. You wanted to play a lone hand. Nothing else weighs against it. 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. Death belongs to God, young man. The fascination of the idea of throwing himself upon his knees and crying out all that was in his heart! As his eyes began to focus objects, he saw one of her arms extended upon the counterpane, in his direction, the hand clenched tightly. There was now no honest way of warning Taber that the net had been drawn.
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