So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. 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.
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