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. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. "We've heard coming and going. His car, a black Alfa Romeo, waited at the end of the subdivision. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough.
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