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. "Boat there!" cried a voice, which Mr. But he promised to give me a couple of guineas if I'd ascertain whether it fitted your locks. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair.
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