The night was now profoundly dark. 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. "Good work. It still failed in something. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. ‘I believe that. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest.
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