He returned, blue towel in hand. He's rewriting Poe and De Maupassant; and that stuff was good only when Poe and De Maupassant wrote it. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. It was all highly intriguing. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror.
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