I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. A tall elegantly dressed woman, followed by a maid, came down the broad staircase. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this.
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