"I
am going to take off my shoes. The last time, Cyrus, when I woke up my
feet were quite numb."
"You should come down to my place," said Mrs. Sin, setting the leather
case on the little card-table beside the lamp. "You have there your
own little room and silken sheets to lie in, and it is quiet--so
quiet."
"Oh!" cried Mollie Gretna, "I must come! But I daren't go alone. Will
you come with me, dear?" turning to Rita.
"I don't know," was the reply. "I may not like opium."
"But if you do--and I know you will?"
"Why," said Rita, glancing rapidly at Pyne, "I suppose it would be a
novel experience."
"Let me arrange it for you," came the harsh voice of Mrs. Sin. "Lucy
will drive you both down--won't you, my dear?" The shadowed eyes
glanced aside at Sir Lucien Pyne.
"Certainly," he replied. "I am always at the ladies' service."
Rita Dresden settled herself luxuriously into a nest of silk and fur
in another corner of the room, regarding the baronet coquettishly
through her half-lowered lashes.
"I won't go unless it is my party, Lucy," she said. "You must let me
pay."
"A detail," murmured Pyne, crossing and standing beside her.
Interest now became centred upon the preparations being made by Mrs.
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