They all glanced up at her.
'Excuse me,' she said. 'Is that a genuine letter you are reading?'
'Oh yes,' said Halliday. 'Quite genuine.'
'May I see?'
Smiling foolishly he handed it to her, as if hypnotised.
'Thank you,' she said.
And she turned and walked out of the Cafe with the letter, all down the
brilliant room, between the tables, in her measured fashion. It was
some moments before anybody realised what was happening.
From Halliday's table came half articulate cries, then somebody booed,
then all the far end of the place began booing after Gudrun's
retreating form. She was fashionably dressed in blackish-green and
silver, her hat was brilliant green, like the sheen on an insect, but
the brim was soft dark green, a falling edge with fine silver, her coat
was dark green, lustrous, with a high collar of grey fur, and great fur
cuffs, the edge of her dress showed silver and black velvet, her
stockings and shoes were silver grey. She moved with slow, fashionable
indifference to the door.
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