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. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. ‘I’ll make it, miss. Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. “You underestimate your own sickness, and the ill humors that struck you may strike again. Come along, you mad jade. 13 Montague Street. Ruth broke the exquisite pose by summoning Ah Cum, who was lured into a lecture upon the water-clock. What a heat that news had wrought. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off.
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