Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. "Lean on me," said Jack. "The traps!" responded a bystander. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is. And, whatever you may think, I assure you, Jack's a downright goodnatured fellow. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. ” “Never,” he exclaimed vehemently. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. She dissected well, and in a year she found herself chafing at the limitations of the lady B. I'll not forget your two mistresses, Jack. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye.
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