She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. Will you not remember what has passed between us? I have the right to take my place by your side. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. From me. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack.
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