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. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon.
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