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. " "Fine!" said O'Higgins, jovially. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. " "I see. " "But why didn't you oppose him?" "I had to let him have his way, else he might not have returned safely. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. “You have succeeded a little too well in your personation,” she said bitterly, “to get rid very easily of Mr.
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