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. He had attained the residence by his political ascension to the Duke of Herculis. Ann Veronica was not ready enough to deal with that counter-stroke. "Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. ‘We were wondering about that. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. I don’t want to know. Ray did not pace, he just stood. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper.
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