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. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. ‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’ asked Roding.
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