The elements were wrathful as their passions. “It’s because I mean to send it back altogether,” she said. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. 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.
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