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. ’ ‘And it is very stupid of you to think of such a thing, because in this case, why should I seek out my family?’ Triumph rose in Gerald’s breast, but he took care to conceal it. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. People think it is, but they are wrong.
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