‘It is not your affair. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. Even our coarseness. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake.
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