Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. "Do you know anything further of Sir Rowland?" he asked. “Call it warning, if you like. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS4xNDcuOTggLSAyOS0wNi0yMDI0IDA2OjM1OjEzIC0gMTEyNzEwMDU5Ng==
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