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. She chose to hold her nose. There was something in Jonathan's manner, as he issued this command, that struck the man as singular, and he afterwards recalled it. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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