Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. “Will you tell Sydney that I will see him in the morning,” he said. She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. And the woollen-draper departed.
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