In the midst of these complacent reflections she choked on a crumb, and, after groping with closed eyes for her tumbler, gulped down the contents.  A strange, delicious tingle filled her mouth; she forgot she was choking, and opened her eyes.  To her horror, she found that she had emptied her glass of champagne.

“Spirituous liquor!” she thought in dismay, as the shade of Miss Joe Hill rose before her.

Total abstinence was such a firm plank in the platform of the celestial affinity that, even in the chafing-dish, alcohol had been tabooed.  The utter iniquity of having deliberately swallowed a glass of champagne was appalling to Miss Lucinda.  She sat silent during the rest of the dinner, eating little, and plucking nervously at the ruffles about her elbows.  The fear of rheumatism in her wrists which had assailed her earlier in the evening gave way to a deeper and more disturbing discomfort.

When the dinner was over, the party started forth on a hilarious round of sight-seeing.  Miss Lucinda limped after them, vaguely aware that she was in a giant electric cage filled with swarming humanity, that bands were playing, drums beating, and that at every turn disagreeable men with loud voices were imploring her to “step this way.”

“Come on!” cried Dick.  “We are going on the scenic railway.”

But the worm turned.  “I—­I’m not going,” she protested.  “I will wait here.  All of you go; I will wait right here.”

With a sigh of relief she slipped into a vacant corner, and gave herself up to the luxury of being miserable.  She longed for solitude in which to face the full enormity of her misdeed, and to plan an immediate reformation.  She would throw herself bodily upon the mercy of Miss Joe Hill, she would spare herself nothing; penance of any kind would be welcome, bodily pain even—­

She shifted her weight to the slender support of one high-heeled shoe while she rested the other foot.  Her hair, unused to its new arrangement, pulled cruelly upon every restraining hair-pin, and her head was beginning to ache.

“I deny the slavery of sense.  I repudiate the bondage of matter.  I affirm spirit and freedom,” she quoted to herself, but the thought failed to have any effect.

A two-ringed circus was in progress at her right while at her left a procession of camels and Egyptians was followed by a noisy crowd of urchins.  People were thronging in every direction, and she realized that she was occasionally the recipient of a curious glance.  She began to watch rather anxiously for the return of her party.  Ten minutes passed, and still they did not come.

Suddenly the awful possibility presented itself that they might have lost her.  She had no money, and even with it, she knew she could not find her way back to the hotel alone.  Anxiety gained upon her in leaps.  In bitter remorse she upbraided herself for ever having strayed from the blessed protection of Miss Joe Hill’s authority.  Gulfs of hideous possibility yawned at her feet; imagination faltered at the things that might befall a lone and unprotected lady in this bedlam of frivolity.