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. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. "My mother is avenged. “But I am your husband,” he said. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. “I’m not so sure. "I will struggle no longer with destiny.
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