Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. Born on a South Sea island, she said. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. Felix. ‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French.
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