Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. People spoke of him everywhere as a young man of great promise, a politician by instinct, a keen and careful judge of character. ’ Quick remorse raced through Melusine’s veins, but she hit back strongly. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. ‘No need to upset yourself. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. Smith obeyed. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill.
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