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. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. Spurlock dove headlong at the other's legs, toppling the man. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. “It was a plot amongst them all to humiliate her.
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