Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. "He has fallen by the hand of Blueskin, who brought me these packets.
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