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. Mr. Men usually do. “What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. Half French. She could not help but swoon a little. ” “A man does,” said Manning—“a true man, anyhow. Another picture slid across her vision.
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