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. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away.
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