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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. Winter came at the manor. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. He was accompanied by Ireton and Austin.
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