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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. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. ’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you.
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