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 don't exactly know the rights of that affair," rejoined Griffin, with some curiosity. . Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. She threw him his car keys. But seriously, things are not so bad as you think. "And so I want the boy out of the way," he concluded.
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