“John, of course I forgive you if it is what you need from me. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. " So saying, he bowed and departed. 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. The door opened. There was no one to be seen in the great hall. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. “Just come to that seat now you are here, Miss Stanley, and look down the other path; there’s a vista of just the common sort.
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