"Beg pardon, Saunders. I didn't mean to offend. Where is she, pray, with the invoice?"
"I'm—I'm sure I don't know, sir," responded Saunders, striving to regain his dignity.
"Have a cigarette, Deppy?" interposed Browne, seeing that something was amiss with Saunders. In solemn order the silver box went the rounds. Drusilla alone refused to take one. Her husband looked surprised.
"Want one, Drusie?"
"No, thank you, Bobby," she said succinctly. "I've stopped. I don't think it's womanly."
Lady Deppingham's hand was arrested with the match half way to her lips. She looked hard at Drusilla for a moment and then touched the light serenely to her cigarette.
"Pooh!" was all that she said. Genevra did not light hers at all.
Saunders spoke up, as if suddenly recollecting something. "I have also to report, sir, that the stock of cigarettes is getting very low. They can't last three days at this rate, sir."
The three men stared at him.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Chase, who could face any peril and relish the experience if needs be, but who now foresaw a sickening deprivation. "You can't mean it, Saunders?"