She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. I mean—I mean to do what I can. 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. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down. Actually, he had come all this distance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract with Fate, to be in Canton on this particular day. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. ” Brendon rushed to the piano and strummed out a tune. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. The other lay unconscious in a heap.
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