Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. McClintock was amused. She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. He moaned. Not wisely but too well. To write under a pseudonym!—to be forced to disown his children! He could not write under his own name, enjoy the fruits of fame should these tales prove successful. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration.
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