The huge animal lay down by the foot of the bed and heaved a sigh of satisfaction as he dropped his nose upon his paws. And then Violet turned her face to Olga, sitting on the bed, and whispered, "Does he know?" "Who?" whispered back Olga. "Max, of course! Who else?" Olga hesitated. Violet's hands were gripping her very tightly. "Know what, dear?" she said at last. A quick frown drew Violet's forehead. "Oh, you know what I mean. Does he know about my going mad? Have you told him?" "My dearest,"--keen distress rang in Olga's voice--"don't--don't talk like that! You're not mad! You're not mad!" Violet's frown changed into a very strange smile. "Oh yes, but I am," she said. "I've been mad for some time now. It's been gradually coming on, but to-day--to-day it is moving faster--much faster." Her low voice quickened. "I haven't much sanity left, Allegro. I can feel it slipping from me inch by inch like a paid-out rope. Only enough left now to know that I am mad. When I don't know that any longer, I shall have lost it all." "Dearest! Dearest!" moaned Olga. "Won't you try to forget it--try to think of other things for a little?" Violet continued as if she had not heard her. "You know, it's curious that it never occurred to me before. I've had such queer sensations--all sorts of funny things going on inside me. It began like a curious thirst--a very horrible sort of craving, Allegro. That was what made me take to those cigarettes. I never felt it when I was smoking them. They made me so deliriously sleepy. It was terrible when--he--took them away. I felt as if he had pushed me over a deep abyss. I really can't do without them. They make me float when I'm going to sink."