"And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. 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 defy you to explain it away. He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged.
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