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. ’ The lodgekeeper’s jaw fell open. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. Brendon made a quick movement forward. It seems to me a woman’s duty to be beautiful, to BE beautiful and to behave beautifully, and politics are by their very nature ugly. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. And here against a wall were the plumtrees.
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