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. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. ’ ‘Ah, you know about that, then?’ ‘That much, yes. She shut the door behind her. "You were saying—?" "I started to say something; that is all. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. "What weight are these irons?" asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically.
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