’ So saying, he pulled her forward, slipping her arms about his back. Too late. 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. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. “Okay, I guess. "What I do is for the best, and I can only hope she may have strength to bear the separation. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination.
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