CHAPTER XVI. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. 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. 1. ” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. . And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. The operation was effected with so much rapidity and so little noise, that even if any one had been on the alert, he could scarcely have detected it.
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