“I am afraid,” she answered, “that one’s friends can judge only of the externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized only by oneself— stop. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. Gerald, whose French was adequate from his military service abroad, was able to respond suitably to such remarks as the ladies addressed to him, but was less exercised by their fashionable dress than their decidedly careworn appearance. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents.
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