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Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. Where is your hat?’ ‘Parbleu, is this a way to rescue me?’ Melusine demanded, digging in her heels and wrenching her arm out of his hold. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. He smiled at Ruth as she turned away from the bed, smiled with both his mouth and eyes; and she knew that here would be a man of heart as well as of science.
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