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. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. "Show me your warrant!" said Wood, almost driven to his wit's-end; "perhaps it isn't regular?" "Ask him who he is?" suggested Thames. ’ Then all at once remembrance made her smile. \"May I come in?\" His bravado was increasing. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are.
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