TURNING back into the beauty parlor after Brown had closed the door, Lorenzo Brayton found Madame Violette standing before him, her face flushed and her manner mildly enthusiastic. Now that she was in Brayton’s presence again, she felt sure that Madame Moonshine had lied, and that all would be well.
“I had expected to see you yesterday afternoon, my dear Mr. Brayton,” Madame Violette said.
“And I fully intended to pay a visit to your establishment, but the heat made me ill, and I left my office and went home early,” Brayton told her. “I was alone in my office—and fainted. Frand found me on the floor.”
Madame Violette expressed her sympathy instantly, which was exactly what Brayton thought she would do. He had learned years before that, in dealing with a woman, it always is well to arous
