“But do you not find it horribly disagreeable, unbearable?” I suddenly recollected that, in passing through the upper hall of the house, I had once or twice detected this nauseating odor, in the neighborhood of Elodia’s suite of rooms.
“Yes, I do,” he answered, “when I happen to come in contact with it, which is seldom. They are careful not to offend others to whom the vapor is unpleasant. Elodia is very delicate in these matters; she is fond of the vapor habit, but she allows no suggestion of it to cling to her garments or vitiate her breath.”
“It must be a great care to deodorize herself,” I returned, with ill-concealed contempt.
“That is her maid’s business,” said he.
“Is it not injurious to health?” I asked.
“Quite so; it often induces frightful diseases, and is sometimes fatal to life even.”
“And yet they persist in it! I should think you would interfere in your sister’s case.”
“Well,” said he, “the evils which attend it are really no greater than those that wait upon the tobacco habit; and, as I smoke, I can’t advise with a very good grace. I have a sort of blind faith that these good cigars of mine are not going to do me any harm,—though I know they have harmed others; and I suppose Elodia reasons in the same friendly way with her vapor cup.”
The train stood on the track ready to start. I was about to spring up the steps of the last car when Severnius stopped me.