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. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum.
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