...

Sylvia, what are you staring at?
Oh, I--see." They had driven south to Washington Square, where Mrs.Ferrall had desired to leave a note, and were now returning.

Sylvia had leaned forward to look up at Siward's house, but with Mrs.Ferrall's first word she sank back, curiously expressionless and white; for she had seen a woman entering the front door and had recognised her as Marion Page.
"Well, of all indiscretions!" breathed Grace, looking helplessly at Sylvia.

"Oh, no, that sort of thing is sheer effrontery, you know! It's rotten bad taste; it's no worse, of course--but it's bad taste.

I don't care what privileges we concede to Marion, we're not going to concede this--unless she puts on trousers for good.