There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. Whatever she does is minimized. 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. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is. One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. ’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door. ’ ‘You’re incorrigible,’ scolded Hilary, beginning to follow. Quilt was not long in following his example.
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