The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. 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. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. The policeman raised his voice, slightly agitated. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. You care for me a little, I know. “I may as well come up by this train.
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