There were no mourners. 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. ’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. "I must go. “I speak from my heart, and you answer from your brain. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. “I do not understand. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes.
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