"So we are, Ma'am, by your charms," returned Mr. Hurry. 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. "I will," answered the prisoner. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. "It is droll," he said.
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