"You are certainly ill, or you would not be so easily upset." I laid my hand as I spoke on her soft tresses, but she withdrew from the touch, sinking down among the cushions.

Leaving her to recover her composure, I took up the half-empty cup she had dropped on the central table.

Thirsty myself, I had almost drained without tasting it, when a little half-stifled cry of dismay checked me.

The moment I removed the cup from my mouth I perceived its flavour--the unmistakable taste of the _dravadone_ ("courage cup"), so disagreeable to us both, which we had shared on our bridal evening.

Wetting with one drop the test-stone attached to my watch-chain, it presented the local discoloration indicating the narcotic poison which is the chief ingredient of this compound.
"I don't think this is wise, child," I said, turning once more to Eveena.