" "I don't care for that," replied Jack. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. She laid her hand upon his arm. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. 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. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him.
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