Wow. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. Miss Stanley threw aside a black cloak to reveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced Ann Veronica with warmth. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. She addresses you as the Flower of the Lotus, as the Resplendent Moonbeam. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other.
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