Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my only relative. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. "My stars! here's a pretty lullaby-cheat to make a fuss about—ho! ho!" "Deal with me as you think proper, gentlemen," exclaimed Wood; "but, for mercy's sake don't harm the child! Let it be taken to its mother. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. Where is he, Sir? Can I see him?" "No, that you can't," answered Mrs. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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