"No," he replied. "I don't want to smoke. Are they all provided for?"
Mrs. Sin shook her head.
"Not Cy," she said. "Two pipes are nothing to him. He will need two
more--perhaps three. But you are not going to smoke?"
"Not tonight, Lola."
She frowned, and was about to speak, when:
"Lola, my dear," came a distant, querulous murmur. "Give me another
pipe."
Sin tossed her head, turned, and went out again. Sir Lucien lighted
another cigarette. When finally the woman came back, Cyrus Kilfane had
presumably attained the opium-smoker's paradise, for Lola closed the
door and seated herself upon the arm of Sir Lucien's chair. She bent
down, resting her dusky cheek against his.
"You smoke with me?" she whispered coaxingly.
"No, Lola, not tonight," he said, patting her jewel-laden hand and
looking aside into the dark eyes which were watching him intently.
Mrs. Sin became silent for a few moments.
"Something has changed in you," she said at last. "You are different--
lately."
"Indeed!" drawled Sir Lucien. "Possibly you are right. Others have
said the same thing."
"You have lots of money now. Your investments have been good. You want
to become respectable, eh?"
Pyne smiled sardonically.
"Respectability is a question of appearance," he replied.
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