Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. Her eyes where glassy and shining. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. Was it ruined?’ ‘But yes, it was entirely ruined. She assumed with a kind of mesmeric force all the propositions that Ann Veronica wanted her to define. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale.
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