And go quickly that I may finish to search. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. He sucked at her neck, biting her hard, leaving red marks that disappeared as soon as he made them. 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. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone.
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