Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. ‘You have made a serious mistake, Melusine. ” “And made you give up a political meeting,” she reminded him. Kneebone will excuse you.
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