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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. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. " "They may find me. That he should pay forty pounds to help this girl who preferred another man was no less in his eyes than a fraud and mockery that made her denial a maddening and outrageous disgrace to him. " "You say that the miniature was abstracted from Lady Trafford's jewel-box," said Jonathan, in a loud voice. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case.
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