He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. Always as black and bitter as gall. He talked very little and rather absently. “But if some one else asked your advice? If some one else said, ‘Here is my teacher, a jaded married man on the verge of middle age, and he and I have a violent passion for one another. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively. 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. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. .
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