would need the drug.

Already there was the most marvelous change in her. She seemed
captivated by the music, the dancing, the life which a few moments
before she had totally disregarded.

She was seated alone, not far from us, and as she glanced about
Kennedy caught her eye. She allowed her gaze to rest on us for a
moment, the signal for a mild flirtation which ended in our
exchange of tables and we found ourselves opposite the drug fiend,
who was following up the taking of the dope by a thin-stemmed
glass of a liqueur.

I do not recall the conversation, but it was one of those
inconsequential talks that Bohemians consider so brilliant and
everybody else so vapid. As we skimmed from one subject to
another, treating the big facts of life as if they were mere
incidents and the little as if they overshadowed all else, I could
see that Craig, who had a faculty of probing into the very soul of
anyone, when he chose, was gradually leading around to a subject
which I knew he wanted, above all others, to discuss.

It was not long before, as the most natural remark in the world
following something he had made her say, just as a clever
prestidigitator forces a card, he asked, "What was it I saw you
snuffing over in the booth--happy dust?"

She did not even take the trouble to deny it, but nodded a brazen
"Yes." "How did you come to use it first?" he asked, careful not
to give offense in either tone or manner.