We’re hard stuff!”
Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me
like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have
done. He reminds me of a slave I once had in
Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. It was he
who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin
gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?"
He had answered: "I am. ”
So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a
landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French
admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. ‘I find you excessively rude, both of you,’
said the lady crossly.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 30-06-2024 05:09:10