They left Tehran at once after the wedding and drove
to Lavasan, to the Imperial Hotel, where the manager met
them on the steps. Minions scurried round to the back
of their car for suitcases. There was much bowing and
scraping, much bestowing of compliments. They were Mr. Shirazi, Mrs.
Shirazi, and were to make themselves completely at home. It
was the first time that Esther had heard herself addressed
like that, Mrs. Shirazi, tied for life in one way
or another to this man at her side, who seemed,
for that moment her beloved Ezra, for now and evermore.
Paraphrases from the novel The Glass Room by Simon Mawer.