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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. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. Perhaps you will meet him someday. " "And a famoush goot shignal it ish," laughed Abraham. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said.
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