“I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. “It’s his birthday. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time.
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