Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. And it's uncanny. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. After much clapping, they started. I’ll buzz him for you. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure because business was so bad. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up. She returned to these latter, and at the back of her mind, as she looked them over again, was a very distinct resolve to quote them after the manner of Miss Garvice at the very first opportunity. She pointed suddenly at the portrait.
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