Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. Thank him, not me, man. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. E. Darrell attempted to reply. “Those were good. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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