But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. 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. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. I want to be a human being; I want to learn about things and know about things, and not to be protected as something too precious for life, cooped up in one narrow little corner. Some doting parent had taught him well.
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