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. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. “Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music. He thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help.
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