She still could not muster the strength to leave. She tried to appear as if she had never been questioned before. 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. Why? Because he knew that when these two young people left, the island would become intolerable.
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