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. But all normal humans smelled wonderful to her, even dirty ones. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. ‘Allow me. .
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