That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. “In the bathroom. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. ’ ‘Have no fear.
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