Then he was to arrest you and bring you home to me. And she was as shrewd as they come. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. I thought that he was dead. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. 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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