His Hour

"You have such a small white face," he said, the words a caress. "One

must see that you are warm and the naughty winds do not blow you away."

Tamara shivered; she could not have told why.

After this the conversation became general.

Millicent joined in with her obvious remarks. The sea was much

smoother; they would be able to eat some dinner; she had heard there

was a gipsy troupe on board in the third-class, and how nice it would

be to have some music!

And something angered Tamara in the way the Prince assisted in all

this, out-commonplacing her friend in commonplaces with the suavest

politeness, while his grave face betrayed him not even by a twinkle in

the eye. Only when he caught hers; then he laughed a sudden short

laugh, and he whispered: "What a perfect woman! everything in the right place. Heaven! at the

best times she would do her knitting, and hand one a child every year!

I'll marry when I can find a wife like that!"

Tamara was furious. She resented his ridicule of Millicent, and she was

horrified at the whole speech; so, gathering her rug together, she said

she was cold, and asked Mr. Strong to pace the deck with her. Nor would

she take the faintest further notice of the Prince, until they all went

below to the evening meal.

At dinner he seemed to be practically a stranger again. He was Tamara's

neighbor, but he risked no startling speeches; in fact, he hardly spoke

to her, contenting himself with discussing seafaring matters with the

captain, and an occasional remark to Stephen Strong, who sat beyond

Mrs. Hardcastle. It was unnecessary for her to have decided beforehand

to snub him; he did not give her the chance.