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. My vengeance is completely gratified. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. ‘Parbleu, but I find that this is excessively clever, this passage. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. It was the gratification of an immense necessity. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object.
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