boat! Cute of you to find your way here all by your lonesome!"

The well-corseted wife of a Can-King, flanked on one side by her thin,
leather-skinned, neat daughter, and on the other by the inevitable
Italian marquis, whose tailor had evidently been a sartorial futurist,
pointed to a cushion on the nobleman's off side, on which perplexed
Jill squatted in imitation of the others. The party consisted of the
aforementioned trio, two flash-looking English women, who had in tow a
certain type of man who is only to be found on board ship, an obese
German, a French widow whose weeds grew more from utility than
necessity, and a dapper little Frenchman who twinkled his
over-manicured fingers for the benefit of a healthy, jolly looking
Australian girl sitting uncomfortably on the adjacent cushion. The
party's dragoman proffered a cup of coffee and a cigarette. The former
was excellent, the latter, after one puff, Jill extinguished on the
floor, for she knew tobacco when she smoked it, and guessed at hasheesh
without having to look at the slightly brightened eyes of those who sat
smoking the same brand around her.

Then she glanced curiously round the room. Long, low, with four tawdry
glass and gilt chandeliers hanging from the not over-clean ceiling,
cushions spreading all over the floor excepting in the middle where lay
an exquisite Persian carpet, long mirrors on all sides, little inlaid
tables, and at the far end, built into the wall with steps leading up
to it, a bed behind gilt bars, the door in which was fastened by a gilt
padlock.

It seemed that their dragoman had brought them to the house so as to
add yet more perquisites to his daily remuneration by regaling them
with an exhibition of Eastern dancing.