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. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. The doctor will be here to see you in five minutes. Opposite to it was placed the Jew. An early bird clarinetist burst through in a long black skirt, swishing like a bell. .
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