” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him. She was finally dead, going to Hell. Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard.
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