It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. She had not noticed such beauty in many years, and it almost caused her to weep. Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof.
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This video was uploaded to motorsport-fotografie.info on 03-07-2024 17:04:04
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