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"I don't know what to think," cried Jen, in desperation. "Dido or Mrs. Dallas, I don't know which, but one of them, must be guilty. I'll go over to The Wigwam at once." "Dat nuffin!" said Dido, with a lordly wave of her hand. "I black; you hab de black blood in youse also. I mek you do Obi. Um!" "Why no, major. Mr. Sarby was with him.".
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"My word!" breathed Patricia, stirred and chilled in spite of herself. "They're doing it brown this time!" He bowed, and without offering his hand--which it is very probable Major Jen would have refused to take--he left the room. When the door closed the older man sank into a chair and passed his hand across a brow moist with perspiration. They went slowly up the palm-banked, stately stairway, through a dim ante-chamber where a line of twinkling barbaric lamps led to the great curtained arch of the entrance to the main assembly room. "No; I understand. You have explained the affair of the handkerchief clearly. All the points have been elucidated save that dealing with the perfume.".
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