‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. 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. ‘You dare to come to me? What do you wish of me? Why have you come? I do not want you!’ She swept round on Gerald abruptly and he braced for the onslaught. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door.
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