Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. " "We shall expect you to-morrow," insinuated Mrs. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest.
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