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. “There is a secret. “There is my aunt,” she said. "You open it, Ruth. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. The major’s hand stilled. He thought of his wealth for once from a different point of view.
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