She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. ’ ‘I do not tell you why,’ the lady uttered flatly. Then most horribly she was clasped about the waist from behind and lifted from the ground. ‘This is not love, Marthe.
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