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Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. “Want to see Mr. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. ” Annabel yawned. The doctor nodded to him curtly. You've caught the colour and the life. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. The delay was only momentary. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. 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.
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