“Not that one,” he said; “that is the woman’s special.”
I stepped back, and read the word Vaporizer,—printed in large gilt letters,—bent like a bow on the side of the car.
“Do you mean to tell me, Severnius,” I exclaimed, “that the railroad company devotes one of these magnificent coaches exclusively to the use of persons addicted to the obnoxious habit we have been speaking of?”
“That is about the size of it,” he returned,—he borrowed the phrase from me. “Come, make haste, or we shall be left; the next car is the smoker; we’ll step into that and finish these cigars, after which I’ll show you what sumptuous parlor coaches we have.”
As we mounted to the platform I could not resist glancing into the Vaporizer. There were only two or three ladies there, and one of them held in her ungloved hand the little cup with the tortuous stem which my friend had described to me. From it there issued a pale blue smoke or vapor, and oh! the smell of it! I held my breath and hurried after Severnius.
“That is the most outrageous, abominable thing I ever heard of!” I declared, as we entered the smoker and took our seats.
“O, it is nothing,” he returned, smiling; “you are a very fastidious fellow. I saw you look into that car; did you observe the lady in blue?”
“I should think I did! she was in the act,” I replied. “And I recognized her, too; she is that Madam Claris you introduced me to in the Auroras’ Temple, is she not?”
“Yes; but did you notice her cup?”
“Not particularly.”