"Yamama!" I murmured, terror-stricken. "He's the chocolate-colored adept that Mrs. Taunton referred to. Pigs! Frogs! He's the scoundrel that put Caroline up to this. He is coming here to look at me! Damn him!"
Excess of emotion had undone me. I felt the hot tears scorching Caroline's cold hand.
CHAPTER IX.
AFTERNOON CALLERS.
Still in dreams it comes upon me that I once on wings did soar;
But or e'er my flight commences this my dream must all be o'er.
--From the Persian.
As I look back upon it now, that afternoon wears the aspect of a variegated nightmare, from which I could not awaken.
"What will madame wear this afternoon?" Suzanne had asked me when I had returned to my apartments above-stairs.
I kicked viciously at the empty air with one of Caroline's dainty feet. The time had come, evidently, for Suzanne to change my costume again. Should I take a ride or a walk, or remain at home? If I went out for a ride, I should have only my own bitter thoughts for company. If I took a stroll up the Avenue, almost anything unpleasant might happen to me. If I stayed in the house, I must receive callers. No one of these alternatives was alluring, but I was forced to choose the latter. For a number of rather vague reasons, I did not dare to cut off my line of communication with Caroline. She had become, as it were, a flying column not yet out of touch with headquarters.
"And she ought to be shot for disobedience to orders," I mused, aloud.
"Pardon me, madame?" exclaimed Suzanne, interrogatively.