She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. ‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. "I've known him all my life," replied the other. As to the picture, I'll keep it myself, though, if you do go I shall need no memorial of you. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. And there was another matter. “Never mind me. Stanley being bored and feeling limited. Besides ——” She stopped short.
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