” “And I also,” Brendon echoed. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. "Go!" said Lady Trafford; "it is my last request. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat.
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