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. It was owing to the untimely end of this poor fellow that Mrs. “Molly and you settled about the rooms. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts.
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