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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. The impassivity of her features changed at last. This isn’t the place. My will never faltered. ’ ‘I like that,’ Gerald protested. ’ He only laughed. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr. Whenever you grow impatient with her, remember the folly of her father. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. ‘Odd sort of a nun.
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