To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible. Then he threw the letter at me. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. Do you know anything of his friends? Is there any one for whom we ought to send?” “I know very little of him beyond his name,” Anna answered. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. " "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. I'll be feeling fine in no time.
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