“No, no,” she cried. ” From that she opened out into a long, confused emphatic discourse on the position of women, full of wonderful statements, while Constance worked at her stencilling and Ann Veronica and Hetty listened, and Teddy contributed sympathetic noises and consumed cheap cigarettes. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. John did not see her until the last period. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. Between him and the beach stood the sum of six hundred dollars. She remained standing stiffly, unable even to move.
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