Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. . “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. “Why on earth did you TELL me?” he cried. You Americans laugh at our custom of honouring our ancestors, our many-times great grandfathers. Find out what I have done or failed to do. That—that isn’t living! You are beside yourself.
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