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 heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. 2. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna.
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