Upon a little spirit-stove stood a covered vessel containing milk,
which was placed there nightly by Rita's maid. She lighted the burner
and warmed the milk. Then, swallowing three of the cachets from the
phial, she drank the milk. Each cachet contained three decigrams of
malourea, the insidious drug notorious under its trade name of
Veronal.
She slept deeply, and was not awakened until ten o'clock. Her
breakfast consisted of a cup of strong coffee; but when Monte Irvin
arrived at eleven Rita exhibited no sign of nerve exhaustion. She
looked bright and charming, and Irvin's heart leapt hotly in his
breast at sight of her.
Following some desultory and unnatural conversation:
"May I speak quite frankly to you?" he said, drawing his chair nearer
to the settee upon which Rita was seated.
She glanced at him swiftly. "Of course," she replied. "Is it--about my
late hours?"
He shook his head, smiling rather sadly.
"That is only one phase of your rather feverish life, little girl," he
said. "I don't mean that I want to lecture you or reproach you. I only
want to ask you if you are satisfied?"
"Satisfied?" echoed Rita, twirling a tassel that hung from a cushion
beside her.
"Yes. You have achieved success in your profession.
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