207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. You sing better than Annabel ever did, you have even a better style. Queer old gentleman! The art of ignoring is one of the accomplishments of every well-bred girl, so carefully instilled that at last she can even ignore her own thoughts and her own knowledge. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. Then she saw him. The Old Mint. “Not possible. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest.
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