Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream.
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