He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. He continued thoughtfully. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. Spurling in alarm. I only arrived when everybody was coming away. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Your father….
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