Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other. Had it not been lashed to the adjoining wherry, it must have been upset, and have precipitated the opponents into the water. Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman.
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