"Damn him for a confounded cockney gas-bag!" I murmured, despondently, but fortunately Suzanne was at that moment busy at the further end of the dressing-room. I stood erect, impatient of further delay.
"Look here, girl," I exclaimed, "will you quit this fussy nonsense and get me out of here? I've got an engagement at----"
My sweet, velvety voice failed me as I realized that I was again forgetting myself, or, rather, Caroline.
The long suffering Suzanne was at my side, instantly.
"Madame may go now," she said, giving a finishing touch here and there to my hair and costume. I made for the bedroom eagerly, but tripped over my dress, recovering my equilibrium and went on. Suzanne said something to herself in French, but the only words that came distinctly to my ears were:
"Le cocktail! Il est diabolique!"
CHAPTER III.
CAROLINE'S USURPATION.
In philosophic mood last night, as idly I was lying,
That souls may transmigrate, methought, there could be no denying;
So just to know to what I owe propensities so strong,
I drew my soul into a chat--our gossip lasted long.
--Béranger.
It was not wholly unpleasant to find myself facing Caroline across the breakfast-table. There she sat, attired in my most becoming gray business suit, in outward seeming a large, well-groomed man-of-the-world. The light in her--or my--eyes suggested the possibility that she had found compensations for her soul's change of base. If that was the case, Caroline was more to be envied than I was, for, despite the feminine beauty that had become mine for a time, I was wholly ill-at-ease and disgruntled. My hand trembled and I spilled the coffee that it had become my duty to serve. Jones, our phlegmatic butler, appeared to be politely astonished at my clumsiness and glanced at me furtively now and again.