Rather would I have gone with Leonardo—and he wished me to do so. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. He frowned. 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.
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