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Anne had always deplored Lesley's predilection for people without roots, who belonged nowhere. It was, of course, a part of her reactions against her mother and against that life she had been forced to lead, contrary to all instinct and inclination, until her twenty-first birthday had brought her a measure of independence. During that period, Anne knew, she had deliberately chosen her friends outside the circle in which Iris had tried to shut her up, escaping out of her mother's drawing room into all sorts of odd corners, into lodgings, furnished rooms, cheap flats where girls of her own age lived struggling but independent lives. Now they were all ten years older, but the associations remained, because Lesley was loyal and grateful and the young women were wise. Anne did not accuse them all of venality, but she could not help smelling a little in so many incongruous friendships. This secretary was probably one of these women without roots, or a friend of one of them. It was so like Lesley to have made the introduction without mentioning any names.