Besides, it was under false pretences. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. 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. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed.
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