Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. 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. "I am as God made me. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts.
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