Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. Tonight Lucy doled out outré physiological theories of boys and their overactive hormones. 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. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. . You called yourself a murderess.
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