Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. ‘Must be still downstairs. “These are the playgrounds of life. 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. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. “Okay, I guess. It numbered nine, and four of these were women students. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship.
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