Her father was right: Ruth must never know. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. 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. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors.
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