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Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. . I cannot have my wife distressed or worried. ‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald. “A new admirer, Annabel? But what has that to do with your going to England?” “Everything! He is Sir John Ferringhall—very stupid, very respectable, very egotistical. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. There will often be six growths in a single palm. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan.
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