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 am already so hungry that I shall begin on the petit pains. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. This time you cannot. A cold shiver came over her. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along.
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