Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. “Is it your maid?” he asked. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul.
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