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. The rest was easy. "Where is he?" he cried. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. Stanley. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. O'Higgins did not confide in me.
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