“God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. ‘Aye, sir. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. CHAPTER IV. Hill, Meysey Hill.
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