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. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. And the rumors! You two are fiends, ghouls, murdering wolves!” “You don’t care about Fritz and Anna! You only care for yourself!” Lucy screamed, her words falling on deaf ears.
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