Either Sydney or Mr. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. Annabel entered. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. . It was perfectly legitimate. The wedding day came shortly after she turned fourteen. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. They walked side by side for a time. "I beg pardon," he said. .
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