" "Do you mock me?" cried Jack, levelling a pistol at him. ” He relapsed into a stony silence. This time they would call it murder. ’ ‘But it’s my affair, Melusine. 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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