He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. You will not find me unreasonable with you. They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. She glanced at him and made a dismissive gesture. But the people among whom she was now thrown through the social exertions of Miss Miniver and the Widgetts—for Teddy and Hetty came up from Morningside Park and took her to an eighteen-penny dinner in Soho and introduced her to some art students, who were also Socialists, and so opened the way to an evening of meandering talk in a studio—carried with them like an atmosphere this implication, not only that the world was in some stupid and even obvious way WRONG, with which indeed she was quite prepared to agree, but that it needed only a few pioneers to behave as such and be thoroughly and indiscriminately “advanced,” for the new order to achieve itself.
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