, Ltd. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said. Nothing could occupy her attention long today, unless it concerned her situation. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described.
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