He withdrew the key and looked at it with a show of surprise.
"And your key, I see, is Thirty-seven," he explained.
She was laughing now, a little, through her confusion.

It was a very pleasant laugh, he thought.

She looked a frank and companionable woman, with her love for the merriment of life touched with a sort of autumnal and wistful sobriety that in no way estranged it from a sense of youth.

But, above all, she was a beautiful woman, thought the listless and lonely man.

He looked at her again.