After feasting his eye upon this superb panorama, he was about to return, when he ascertained from a farmer that his nearest road to Willesden would be down a lane a little further on, to the right. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. “I’ll come to the station,” said Ann Veronica. “The Miss Pellissier who was at White’s with us. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. His car was there. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered.
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