"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.