4x-xx-xx ep17 The Hand

August 31st, as I remember, and I had just heard that Sir John Rowell and his daughter at least a villa here at one late path for the winter.

I hadn't seen Sir John since I had been in London four years ago. Naturally I was anxious to see my father's old friend. I walked across the sands in the pouring rain to the lonely house on the cliff which he at least.

I remember wondering at that time why any man would choose such an isolated and cheerless spot. But then my taste for his villa might have been dolled by the constant fall of the rain and the dreary overcast skies.

I knocked on the door and then waited. It seems I waited some time before his Arabian servant. Yes. Is Sir John Rowell in? Who is calling, please? Mr. Lansing from London. Mr. Dennis Lansing the second.

Come in please. Oh thank you. I don't see why you have to rent this place for the entire year father, it's depressing. Please to be seated sir. I announce you. Thank you. Perhaps I have reason to my own finish.

Oh I don't doubt it. But there would have been a million places in England which would have served your purpose just as well I'm sure. Mr. Dennis Lansing the second to see you sir George.

Here is Lensing, show him right in, Kia ora, show him right in. Another one of your head-hunting friends, Dad. Yes, see, till it you'll see. Sir John... Come in, my boy, come in, let's have a look at you.

Where, where, you've grown up since I last saw you. Oh, the inevitable result of you, sir. Well, I'd like you to be my daughter, Lady Phyllis. How do you do? Hello. Well, do I look like a head-hunter?