’ ‘How dare you?’ roared the general. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. ‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man. 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. I told you no good would come of it. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations.
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