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. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. One of your arms shall be drawn to one side of the room, and the other arm to the other side, and your legs shall be served in the like manner. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it. Over here men drink because they are lonely; and when they drink too hard and too long, they wind up on the beach.
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