ation for this pretty friend of his cousin's. In this respect his
conduct was in no way peculiar. Few men were proof against the seductive
Mrs. Monte Irvin, not because she designedly encouraged admiration, but
because she was one of those fortunately rare characters who inspire
it without conscious effort. Her appeal to men was sweetly feminine and
quite lacking in that self-assertive and masculine "take me or leave me"
attitude which characterizes some of the beauties of today. There was
nothing abstract about her delicate loveliness, yet her charm was not
wholly physical. Many women disliked her.

At dance, theatre, and concert Quentin Gray played the doting cavalier;
and Rita, who was used to at least one such adoring attendant, accepted
his homage without demur. Monte Irvin returned to civil life, but Rita
showed no disposition to dispense with her new admirer. Both Gray and
Sir Lucien had become frequent visitors at Prince's Gate, and Irvin, who
understood his wife's character up to a point, made them his friends.

Shortly after Monte Irvin's return Sir Lucien taxed Rita again with her
increasing subjection to drugs. She was in a particularly gay humor,
as the supplies from Kazmah had been regular, and she laughingly fenced
with him when he reminded her of her declared intention to reform when
her husband should return.

"You are really as bad as Margaret," she declared. "There is nothing the
matter with me. You talk of 'curing' me as though I were ill. Physician,
heal thyself."

The sardonic smile momentarily showed upon Pyne's face, and:

"I know when and where to pull up, Rita," he said. "A woman never knows
this. If I were deprived of opium tomorrow I could get along without
it."

"I have given up opium," replied Rita. "It's too much trouble, and the
last time Mollie and I went--"

She paused, glancing quickly at Sir Lucien.

"Go on," he said grimly. "I know you have been to Sin Sin Wa's. What
happened the last time?"

"Well," continued Rita hurriedly, "Monte seemed to be vaguely
suspicious. Besides, Mrs. Sin charged me most preposterously. I really
cannot afford it, Lucy."

"I am glad you cannot. But what I was about to say was this: Suppose you
were to be deprived, not of 'chard', but of cocaine and veronal, do you
know what would happen to you?"

"Oh!" whispered Rita, "why will you persist in trying to frighten me! I
am not going to be deprived of them."

"I persist, dear, because I want you