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. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. I will remember them, Sebastian, along with my mother and father, and all the others I came to love and lose.
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