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“It was best for me to know. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. 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. Lucy was silent.
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