Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. He blurted, “I was just telling Lucy that I have finished an important work. "Not so," replied Jack, throwing down the skreen. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. It took all my self control not to let my hands wander. There are two ways to go in, you understand. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. "Now, then, Saint Giles!" interposed Sheppard, "are we to be kept here all night?" "Eh day!" exclaimed Sharples: "wot new-fledged bantam's this?" "One that wants to go to roost," replied Sheppard. "My head fairly turns round. Suddenly he stopped short. Wood fancied he recognised.
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