Hang the wench! Roding was right. 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. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. ’ She bit her lip, and then turning her face away, emitted another sigh. ” Lucy said.
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