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'm afraid I must decline to tell you. She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding. She was writhing to get her hands loose and found herself gasping with passionate violence, “It’s damnable!—damnable!” to the manifest disgust of the fatherly policeman on her right. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. “A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. 196 Succeeded where she had not.
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