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. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. He only stays here for you, hoping in vain. But she had loved the man. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name.
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