” Ann Veronica remained anxious to hear more of her sister’s story from her father’s point of view, but he did not go on. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. “Only it is much too late for you to be out alone. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to 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. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. ” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines.
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