The Man with the Clubfoot - Valentine Williams - Bog

The reception clerk looked up from the hotel register and shook his head firmly. "Very sorry, saire," he said, "not a bed in ze house." And he closed the book with a snap. Outside the rain came down heavens hard. Every one who came into the brightly lit hotel vestibule entered with a gush of water. I felt I would rather die than face the wind-swept streets of Rotterdam again. I turned once more to the clerk who was now busy at the key-rack. "Haven't you really a corner? I wouldn't mind where it was, as it is only for the night. Come now..."