Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. It was the same Bios whose nature and drift and ways and methods and aspects engaged them all. Why should some things and not others open the deeps?” “Well, that might, after all, be an outcome of selection—like the preference for blue flowers, which are not nearly so bright as yellow, of some insects. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat.
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