"I don't suppose it can be hotter than the rooms in the East," answered
the stranger, as she rose and moved towards it. She stood for a moment
looking in, then turned back and smiled at her late companion. "Oh, I
can bear it," she said, and disappeared from sight.

The little American pouted and looked disturbed. "What a shame! I had
ever so many more things to ask her," she said, "and to think, after
all, I don't know her name, or even to what country she belongs, and I
did so want the whole story pat for the _table d'hote_ dinner
to-night... Ready to be shampooed?--oh, yes, Morrison; I'm just about
`done through;' I'm glad you can take me first."

She rose abruptly and followed the attendant past the flushed and
perspiring groups who were still comparing notes as to different
ailments and degrees of moisture, occasionally holding out their arms
for mutual inspection.

"I wonder," she said to herself, "how that one woman manages to look so
different. Why, we get uglier and uglier, and she only more and more
beautiful. Perhaps she's a Rosicrucian!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER THREE.

THE COOLING ROOM.

A long room, down the centre of which ran a row of couches; on either
side were the dressing-rooms, curtained off from the main apartment by
curtains of dark Oriental blue, bordered with dull red. In the large
bay window stood the dressing-tables and mirrors.

Mrs Ray Jefferson had it all to herself, as, wrapped in an enormous
sheet of Turkish towelling, she emerged from the processes of shampooing
and douche. She laid herself down on one of the couches, and the
attendant, Morrison, threw another Turkish wrap over her, and left her
to the enjoyment of the coffee she had ordered, and which was placed on
one of the numerous small tables scattered about.

According to all rules of the baths, she should have rested calmly and
patiently on that couch, until such time as she was cool enough to don
her ordinary attire, but the little American, was of a restless and
impatient disposition, and of all things hated to be inactive.

The attendant had scarcely left the room before she raised herself to a
sitting position, and took a survey of her appearance in one of the
mirrors. It did not appear to be very satisfactory. She turned
abruptly away and reached some magazines from an adjoining table. Armed
with these she once more sought her couch, and aft