I’m going to that stupid party at the Vorsack’s to get to the bottom of it. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. 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. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect.
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