“Okay. 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. “I saw—they knocked off your fetters yesterday. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure.
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