” Annabel looked down. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. I’ll give you grandpére!’ ‘But milor’—’ ‘Pardon!’ No longer master of his actions, the general lurched forward, waving his cane. ” An awkward moment of silence followed. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death.
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