He stood back and held her shoulders. 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. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Her anger parlayed with her confusion, as she realized that the new marriage was about as optional as the first one and her hunger was growing inside her like a weed.
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