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. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. ‘What we have to find out is whether or not the wretched female is in fact Lord Charvill’s granddaughter. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men.
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