Its walled heaved with black mildew and sea-salt. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. Mom, this is Lucy Albert from school. Her mother had prepared her for everything. 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. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it.
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