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. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. My Mom is hell bent on having the biggest, most beautiful house in the neighborhood, my college education be damned. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice.
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