Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. It was too good to be true. The Jew swallowed it at a draught. She understood. 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. Prison was beastly.
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