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. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. The phone did not ring. ” He did not look at her. But when she saw the car, her body filled with dread, for it gave her a bad feeling. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. ” She said.
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