embroidery. The chair
I had vacated I discovered to be of old Spanish oak and stamped Cordova
leather bearing traces of a coat-of-arms in gold. My hostess lounged in
a low characterless seat amid a mass of heterogeneous cushions. There
were many flowers in the room--some in Cloisonne vases, others in
gimcrack vessels such as are bought at country fairs. On the mantelpiece
and on tables were mingled precious ivories from Japan, trumpery chalets
from the Tyrol, choice bits of Sevres and Venetian glass, bottles with
ladders and little men inside them, vulgar china fowls sitting on eggs,
and a thousand restless little objects screeching in dumb agony at one
another.

The more one looked the more confounded became confusion. Lengths of
beautifully embroidered Chinese silk formed curtains for the doors and
windows; but they were tied back with cords ending in horrible little
plush monkeys in lieu of tassels. A Second Empire gilt mirror hung over
the Louis XVI sofa, and was flanked on the one side by a villainous
German print of "The Huntsman's Return" and on the other by a dainty
water-colour. Myriads of photographs, some in frames, met the eye
everywhere--on the grand piano, on the occasional tables, on the
mantelpiece, stuck obliquely all round the Queen Anne mirror above it,
on the walls. Many of them represented animals--bears and lions and
pawing horses. Dale's photograph I noticed in a silver frame on the
piano. There was not a book in the place. But in the corner of the room
by a further window gleamed a large marble Venus of Milo, charmingly
executed, who stood regarding the welter with eyes calm and unconcerned.

I was aroused from the momentary shock caused by the revelation of
this eccentric apartment by an unknown nauseous flavour in my mouth.
I realised it was the cigarette to which I had helped myself from the
beautifully chased silver casket I had taken from the mantelpiece. I
eyed the thing and concluded it was made of the very cheapest tobacco,
and was what the street urchin calls a "fag." I learned afterwards that
I was right. She purchased them at the rate of six for a penny, and
smoked them in enormous quantities. For politeness' sake I continued
to puff at the unclean thing until I nearly made myself sick. Then,
simulating absentmindedness, I threw it into the fire.

Why, in the sacred name of Nicotine, does a luxurious lady like Lola
Brandt smoke such unutterable garbage?

On the other hand, the tea