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. And from that they came back by way of the Kreutzer Sonata and Resurrection to Tolstoy again. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. If ever he requires my services, he shall find I'm not ungrateful. E. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile.
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