She twanged the catgut under her fingers. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. ” “Perhaps not,” she answered. 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. Anyhow, ten minutes after I get to work I'll be rumpling it. .
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