His Hour

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.