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. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes. "After all, he is my father, Hoddy; and I cursed him. It's too hard. You’re mine. " The little urchin set off, and presently returned with the sexton.
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