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. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. “Soul to soul. . They either ran to see or ran for shelter. That’s— that’s my private life.
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