Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. \" It was a lie: Lucy ate one forced meal a day, supper.
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