When I gave him an invitation to supper, I little thought he'd accept it. 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. Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon. By this time, several of the terrified domestics appeared with lights. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. I hated him. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. He can't be far off.
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