His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. He took about five minutes. 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. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. “You are absurd,” she declared. You came to me, you wished me to speak to Anna. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. She felt flattered. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. ’ A laugh escaped her. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. Wagstaff.
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