Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. “I’m not in the mood right this instant. “I do not know what you mean,” he said, “but if you are referring to any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again.
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