” She stopped. 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. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. I knew where I would go next: Florence.
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