I was—I was a corespondent. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. A pig, yes, a little. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. But Sheppard was not to be silenced. ’ ‘That is silly.
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