Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. For it was not a good thing to like one man too much when one was going to marry another. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. One went in for painting, kept straight and married old Ferringhall a week or so ago—the Lord help her.
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