“Riding in the cars, maybe,” said Pinky.  “I always feel bad after being in the cars; it kind of stirs me up.”

Flora sat very quietly at the table, still resting her head upon her hands.  Pinky and the girl who had joined them exchanged looks of intelligence.  The former had drawn her veil partly aside, yet concealing as much as possible the bruises on her face.

“My! but you’re battered!” exclaimed Miss Peter, in a whisper that was unheard by Flora.

Pinky only answered by a grimace.  Then she said to Flora, with well-affected concern,

“I’m afraid you are ill, dear?  How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” answered the poor girl, in a voice that betrayed great anxiety, if not alarm.  “It came over me all at once.  I’m afraid that wine was too strong; I am not used to taking anything.”

“Oh dear, no! it wasn’t that.  I drank a glass, and don’t feel it any more than if it had been water.”

“Let’s go,” said Flora, starting up.  “Mrs. Bray must be home by this time.”

“All right, if you feel well enough,” returned Pinky, rising at the same time.

“Oh dear! how my head swims!” exclaimed Flora, putting both hands to her temples.  She stood for a few moments in an uncertain attitude, then reached out in a blind, eager way.

Pinky drew quickly to her side, and put one arm about her waist.

“Come,” she said, “the air is too close for you here;” and with the assistance of the girl who had joined them, she steadied Flora down stairs.

“Doctored a little too high,” whispered Miss Peter, with her mouth close to Pinky’s ear.

“All right,” Pinky whispered back; “they know how to do it.”

At the foot of the stairs Pinky said,

“You take her out through the yard, while I pay for the oysters.  I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Poor Flora, was already too much confused by the drugged liquor she had taken to know what they were doing with her.

Hastily paying for the oysters and liquor, Pinky was on hand in a few moments.  From the back door of the house they entered a small yard, and passed from this through a gate into a narrow private alley shut in on each side by a high fence.  This alley ran for a considerable distance, and had many gates opening into it from yards, hovels and rear buildings, all of the most forlorn and wretched character.  It terminated in a small street.

Along this alley Pinky and the girl she had met at the restaurant supported Flora, who was fast losing strength and consciousness.  When halfway down, they held a brief consultation.

“It won’t do,” said Pinky, “to take her through to——­street.  She’s too far gone, and the police will be down on us and carry her off.”

“Norah’s got some place in there,” said the other, pointing to an old wooden building close by.

“I’m out with Norah,” replied Pinky, “and don’t mean to have anything more to do with her.”