The hostess stopped at the last door on the left, turned the lamp beside it to green, and bowed herself away.
Lor stepped inside along with Nellie and the door closed behind him.
The cabin was small and warm, with a low round table, a curved velvet bench deep enough to sink into, and a lattice window over a courtyard of glowing moss.
By the edge of the table sat a small brass lever with a tag on it, and the tag read: If a lamp must be red.
"This is ridiculous," Lor said, sinking deeper into the velvet. "In a good way."
Nellie sat on the bench across from him and kept her knees pressed together and her back very straight.
The white blouse still pulled across her chest when she breathed.
The plum skirt had settled high on her thighs once she sat. She smoothed the pleats once, then left them.
The waiter, a lean man in spotless white gloves, set down two glasses of citrus water and two menus of cream-colored stone.
