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 I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. Did you break my mother's heart as you tried to break mine? I am no longer accountable to you for anything. "I'll be very glad to take that kind of a job, if you can find it. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ’ If she suffered from dragging pain in her joints, Gerald thought it explained why her features were prematurely lined. “Get you a cold one?” “No thanks.
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