“Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Ann Veronica tried to seem absolutely unconcerned. They both listened intently. 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. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. The flight. " "I can't. I too can see it. I am your servitor.
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