He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. “But, forgive me, you are tired. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. One from 1966, a yearbook photo reprinted in a newspaper. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said.
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