He envied her a little. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. She ran away after she had divined that Gianfrancesco had remarried. 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.
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