‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. I wonder if I should have locked you up if I’d been your father. 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. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. F.
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