He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. She laughed. Very doubtful. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. He divorced her. Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. 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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