The note-passer lagged behind with her. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. Earles drew out his cheque book. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. ’ He sighed.
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