” Annabel pulled down her veil to hide the tears. I know exactly what I am doing. ” He said. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad.
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