“Would you stand it? I’m going to clear out. ” Diane purred. 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. “There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment,” she told herself, “and that is how to pay my next week’s bill to Mrs. ” He stood before the door. Then she came a few steps to meet him. This became very interesting. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. “Look at me.
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