No more? Really? Nor you,
Julian?"
Julian made no reply. He simply pushed his glass a little away from him.
"Then shall we accompany Miss Bright into the tentroom? I thought we
would have coffee there. You have never seen the tentroom," he added to
Cuckoo, getting up from his seat as he spoke.
"I usually sit in it when I am alone or with Julian. You will not mind
our cigarettes, I know."
He led the way down the scented corridor, scented with the thin, gently
bright scent of violets.
"The tentroom has a history," he continued to Cuckoo, opening a door
on the left. "It was once the scene of an--an absurd experiment. Eh,
doctor?"
They entered the room. As they did so the hot, sticky scent of the hidden
hyacinths poured out to meet them. For a moment it seemed overwhelming,
and Cuckoo hung back with an almost unconquerable sensation of aversion
and even of fear. The aspect of this small room astonished her; she had
never seen any chamber so arranged. Certainly, it looked very unusual
to-night. The small fire was hidden by a large screen of white wood, with
panels of dull green brocade. Only one of the electric lamps was turned
on, and that was shaded, so that the diffused light was faint, a mere
unflickering twilight.
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