“So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. 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 hope not. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. Then I threw a bucket of dirty water on his face and said, ‘Listen, asshole, let’s get one thing straight. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders.
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