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. When she awoke, she felt sick, her mouth still salty with blood. " At this moment, Rachel and Blueskin returned. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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