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. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. "Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. Sheila knew that the Eat & Shop on the corner of 53rd and Oleson was a flimsy front for an all-in-the-family whorehouse.
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