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. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. He deserves none. That was what she was trying to make him understand. The only persons in the Lodge were Mrs. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice. “I have made over seven hundred pounds in the last week,” he said. He would advise you how to get rid of the fellow.
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