She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. . ’ Amusement flickered in Gerald’s breast. 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. He backed away from her. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. ” The lights were lowered, and an attentive waiter hovered round Anna’s cloak. . ’ Mrs Chalkney lifted her brows. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns.
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