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At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. 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. "Dying, Sir Rowland. Mr. ” “Of course I am. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. I am not come here to play the part of your father-confessor. So get up, and let's be off.
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