Foreigners were not looked upon with favor in the home circle, and
instead of staying only the two months of May and June, as she was
fully entitled to, in London, she had insisted upon remaining for July
as well that year--to be near her friend Vera and enjoy the gay world.
The Squire had grumbled, but acquiesced, though when afterward a fourth
daughter was presented to him with a request that she might have
Princess Vera for a godmother and a Russian name to be called by, he
felt himself justified in carping at fate.
"Foreign fandangoes," he designated such ideas. However, Lady Gertrude
was very ill, and had to be humored, so the affair took place, and
Tamara the baby was christened, with due state.
There were no more Russian suggestions in the family; the son and heir
who arrived a year later became plain Tom, and then Lady Gertrude
Underdown made her bow to the world and retired to the family vault in
Underwood Church.
They were all estimably brought up by an aunt, and hardly ever left the
country until each one came up in turn to be presented at Court, and go
through a fairly dull season among country neighbors on the same bent.
Two of them, including Tamara, had secured suitable husbands, and at
the age of twenty-three years the latter had been left a well-dowered
widow.
She had worn mourning for just the right period, had looked after her
affairs--handed James' place over with a good grace to James' brother
and an unliked sister-in-law, and finally, when she was wearing grays
and mauves, two years almost after her loss, she had allowed herself to
be persuaded into taking a trip to Egypt with her friend, Millicent
Hardcastle, who was recovering from influenza.
It had caused the greatest flutter at Underwood, this journey abroad!
None of them had been further than Dresden, where each girl had learned
German for a year or so before her presentation.
And what had Egypt done for Tamara? Lifted just one pretty white
eyelid, perhaps. Stirred something which only once or twice in her life
she had been dimly conscious of. Everything had been a kind of shock to
her. A shock of an agreeable description. And once driving at night in
the orange groves of Ghezireh, after some open-air fête, the heavy
scent and intoxicating atmosphere had made her blood tingle. She felt
it was almost wrong that things should so appeal to her senses.
Anything which appealed deliberately to the senses had always been
considered as more than almost wrong at Underwood Chase.