I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. But it was not so ordered. And what on earth do you want to darken your eyebrows and use so much make-up for at your age? You’re exactly twenty-three, and you’re got up as much as a woman of forty-five. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. “Should I leave? Sounds like she is running out of food. ‘How much does he know?’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned narrowed eyes on Gerald. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations.
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