He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. You will go to London?” “It is necessary,” she answered. ” Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. And what on earth do you want to darken your eyebrows and use so much make-up for at your age? You’re exactly twenty-three, and you’re got up as much as a woman of forty-five. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him.
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