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. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. T. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature.
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