It wasn't until the news reported the sacrifice of a certain commander's grandson that she finally realized it wasn't just a child's play.
Annie Taylor's gaze was somewhat moist, yet tears never fell.
The man in the photos was as handsome as ever, with an unusual seriousness and gravity in his eyes, making it almost impossible to associate him with that frivolous second generation ancestor, and causing an involuntary sense of respect.
She probably stood there for about ten minutes until she saw Old Sir Loman on the platform, speaking with a face full of grief. Annie Taylor tugged at her hat and didn't stay any longer, turning to go back to the hotel nearby.
The entire hotel was almost empty, as if everyone, both known and unknown, had gone outside to attend that man's funeral, leaving it silent and desolate.
Annie Taylor stepped on the ground of the corridor, the tears she had been suppressing finally rolling uncontrollably down at this moment.
