He contrasted wonderfully with the empty showing-off of Teddy. 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. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless.
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