The evil in his eyes towards her was explosive. She could tell that he was furious in that instant. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. 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. “Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly. Gosse had to release his clamp on her mouth, for the awkwardness of the position made it impossible to negotiate the little stair. ’ Gerald held out his hand, and she meekly gave the dagger up to him.
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