The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. The third time she escaped she reached the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table. I'll forgive him if he does. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt.
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