He had an objective now. 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. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist. They struck her as cold and indifferent.
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