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 would marry your sister anyhow, under any circumstances,” he answered. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. From this peaceful scene Jack's eye fell upon Jonathan, who, seated upon the stile, under the shade of an elder tree, was evidently watching him. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed.
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