behind the Laundromat. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. And, for a man who'll never see sixty again, he's in excellent preservation, I assure you. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform.
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