” Annabel looked intently into her glass. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. Then he took me out to Monteaux, on a motor. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. “But, dear, think! He is your father.
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