She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. 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.
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