Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. Sheppard, paralysed by the threat. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Will you take it in to him?” The young man smiled in a superior manner. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her. Double-crossing wouldn't do any good. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. “Drugs, mainly. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me.
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