Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. In a few minutes after the delivery of this note he will be in Newgate. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. Hope reared. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. It was a simple wish. “We don’t want things to happen!” Never had he shown his daughter so clearly that the womenkind he was persuaded he had to protect and control could please him in one way, and in one way only, and that was by doing nothing except the punctual domestic duties and being nothing except restful appearances. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Yes. “No, I’d like to.
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