Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. She looked into his eyes, truly noticing their gray color for the first time. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. Otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xNjEuMTggLSAwOS0wNi0yMDI0IDEzOjMxOjI4IC0gMTcyMjIyMDMwNw==
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