Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. ” He beamed upon her. Get it off your soul. If I might take the liberty, Sir John,” he added, with a humorous gleam in his eyes, “I should like to congratulate you upon your tie. '" "No, we can't stand that," hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs. “What was that?” she asked sharply. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. .
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