Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment. It was the grand nursery of vice. The Ferringhalls are of course without any pretence at family, but Sir John is a very rich man, and will be able to give Annabel a very enviable position in the world. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. He shook his head. Funny how all but the most cunning and promiscuous teenage girls never caught on, not in 1400, certainly not now. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her.
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