. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. " In spite of her displeasure, Winifred could not help smiling at the absurdity of this address. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. " "Then, most probably, it was the widow Sheppard," answered Blueskin, sulkily. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. ” “You haven’t answered my question.
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