Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for dinner. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 19-09-2024 11:49:14
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