Hilary threw up his eyes. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. A cup of lies. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. “I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year. You have not forgotten——” “I have forgotten nothing?” he answered, enigmatically.
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