“You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. .
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