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. ” Her aunt answered in a low voice: “I was engaged to him, dear, for seven years, and then he died. Annabel was in hiding all the time. Let us search it. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. If I'd been in the way, instead of Jonathan Wild, that accident wouldn't have happened. "I was not aware it was in danger," rejoined Darrell.
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