‘Don’t be too sure,’ responded Major Gerald Alderley on a dry note. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. 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. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so.
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