His Hour

Next day they started, escorted to the station by a troup of gushing

friends. Their compartment was a bower of flowers, and as each moment

went by Tamara's equanimity was restored by the thought that she would

soon be out of the land of her disgrace.

It is a tiresome journey to Alexandria--dusty and glaring and not of

great interest. They hurried on board the ship when they arrived,

without even glancing at their fellow passengers following in the

gangway. Neither woman was a perfect sailor and both were quite

overcome with fatigue. It promised to be a disagreeable night, too, so

they retired at once to their cabins, and were soon asleep.

The next day, which was Sunday, the wind blew, but by the afternoon

calmed down again, and Tamara decided to dress and go on deck.

"Mrs. Hardcastle went up some hours ago; she was ready for luncheon,

ma'am," her maid told her.

"She left a message for you to join her when you woke."

The ship was the usual sort of ship that goes from Alexandria to

Trieste, and the two English ladies had secured places for their chairs

in the most protected spot. Tamara rather looked forward to being able

to sit there in the moonlight and enjoy the Mediterranean.

Her maid preceded her with her rug and cushion and book, and it was not

until she was quite settled that she took cognizance of an empty chair

at her other side.

"You lazy child!" Millicent Hardcastle said. "To sleep all day like

this! It has been quite beautiful since luncheon, and I have had a most

agreeable time. That extremely polite nice young Russian Prince we met

at the Khedive's ball is here, dear; indeed, that is his chair next

you. He is with Stephen Strong. We have been talking for hours."

Tamara felt suddenly almost cold.

"I never saw him in the train or coming on board," she said, with

almost a gasp.

"Nor did I, and yet he must have been just behind us. Our places at

meals are next him, too. So fortunate he was introduced, because one

could not talk to a strange man, even on a boat. I never can understand

those people who pick up acquaintances promiscuously; can you, dear?"

"No," said Tamara, feebly.

She was pondering what to do. She could not decline to know the Prince

without making some explanation to Millicent. She also could not

flatter him so much. She must just be icily cold, and if he should be

further impertinent she could remain in her cabin.