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. . They must be for your father. ’ ‘What?’ ‘Neat little toy. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. " "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard.
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