She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable that it should be so.
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