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Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ’ ‘But you managed to escape nevertheless,’ Gerald said calmly, ‘disguising yourself as a nun. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning.
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