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. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. You, Anna, are one of them. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ” It was certain that he was not there. ’ The girl held out her hands. \"Some of them do smell good, though. You know I am in love with you. " "Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. ” Ann Veronica said nothing, and Miss Klegg went on: “He very often IS— most unfair. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded.
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