Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. “Mary Lucia. Advancing towards him, he made him a formal salutation, which was coldly returned. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. He had grabbed a tiny remote control and flew the thing around the table, landing it there and turning it off. This astute personage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly proportioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. Do not imagine that I cannot do so, as well as I can this Gérard. She wants to be free—she wants to be legally and economically free, so as not to be subject to the wrong man; but only God, who made the world, can alter things to prevent her being slave to the right one.
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