‘And then vanished into thin air,’ rejoined Hilary on a sardonic note. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. Saint Giles's Round-house XIII.
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