She looked stealthily at Anna. 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. Gerald lost his head. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. She was tempted to touch him in the car as they drove to the empty house, but she refrained for fear of causing a car accident. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. It had been easy to steal. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. He turned me so that he could have a companion in his loneliness. "I'm afraid we'll have to dig into his trunk," he said.
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