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It was an impulse. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. 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. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. ‘Now let’s have it.
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