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. . “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. Michelle began to shadow her at school. . It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight.
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