“Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. The inn was a military haunt. When he begins to notice things, I want you to trap his interest, to amuse him, keep his thoughts from reverting to his misfortunes. Nothing stronger than water has passed my lips for years. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly.
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