There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. ‘And if you like, I will tell you why. 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. "Who took it thence?" "Thames Darrell; the boy at your side. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged.
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