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 wouldn’t. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face. "I guessed what was coming.
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