" "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. . “Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir,” Brendon ordered. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. 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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