On a high chair behind a raised counter the stipendiary’s substitute regarded her malevolently over his glasses. But days had now passed. They don’t count, and I don’t care. I’ve made an ally of her champion. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough. It appeared highly probable to her that he would stop her allowance. 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. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass.
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