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. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. We are off for a second honeymoon. I don’t have to take this shit.
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