Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. “I feel shabby and disgraced. Her linen gown was soft against the heavy skins. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. If not, keep up your spirits. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. ‘Sindlesham? But Gerald has gone out of town to visit that very person.
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