’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. 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. She is a year or so older than I am, and she is, well, of a very serene and proud and dignified temperament. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled.
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