He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. It was Annabel who spoke. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. "She considers her future blasted beyond hope. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. E. Wood. " "But she would understand you; whereas she will never understand her father.
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