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. "I'm not worth it. " "I, Sir!—I swear——" "Tush!" interrupted Jonathan, harshly. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. I’m sorry Lucy. Anna, you shall not go. .
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