“I heard that she had chucked her show at the French places and gone in for a reform all round. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. Then she sang. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days. The truth was impossible, indecent.
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