There did not seem to be any hurry, any such thing as time here, so skilfully was the place run.

There was no noise; the feet sank in half-inch piles of rugs, and easy-chairs and divans were scattered about.
Once a puff of light smoke appeared, and Constance awoke to the fact that some were smoking little delicately gold-banded cigarettes.

Indeed it was all quite recherche.
Mrs.Caswell took one from a maid.

So did Constance, but after a puff or two managed to put it out and later to secure another which she kept.
Madame Cassandra herself proved to be a tall, slender, pale woman with dark hair and a magnetic eye, an eye that probably accounted more than anything else for her success.

She was clad in a house gown of purplish silk which clung tightly to her, and at her throat a diamond pendant sparkled, as well as other brilliants on her long, slender fingers.
She met Mildred and Constance with outstretched hands.
"So glad to see you, my dears," purred Madame, leading the way into an inner sanctum.
Mrs.Caswell had seated herself with the air of one who worshiped at the shrine, while Constance gazed about curiously.
"Madame," she began a little tremulously, "I have had another of those dreadful dreams." "You poor dear soul," soothed Madame, stroking her hand.