“There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. It was hard to resist. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. “I got Sydney’s telegram at ten o’clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord. ” She instructed him.
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