Violet uttered a hard little laugh. "Oh, it wasn't that! I haven't been asleep at all. I generally do sleep after Hunt-Goring's cigarettes. But to-night I couldn't. They only seemed to make things worse." She sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed. "Don't cuddle me, Allegro! I'm so hot."
Olga leaned back on her pillows, with a curious sense of something gone wrong. "Shall I light a candle?" she said.
"No. It's light enough. I hate an artificial glare, Allegro!"
"Well, dear?" said Olga gently.
Violet was sitting with her back to the moonlight, her face in deep shadow. Her black hair was loosely tied back and hung below her waist. Olga stretched out a hand and touched the silken ripples caressingly.
Violet threw back her head restlessly. "I'm going to give up
Hunt-Goring," she said.
"My dear, I am glad!" said Olga fervently.
Violet laughed again. "I only encouraged him for the sake of his cigarettes. But I'm going to give up them too. The opium habit grows on one so."
"Opium!" echoed Olga sharply.
"Opium, dear child! It's a cunning mixture and most seductive. The astute Max little knew what he was inhaling this afternoon." Violet's words had a curious tremor in them as of semi-tragic mirth.