"What can he be talking about to my friend, Mr. Strong?" she asked, as
the two passed again. "Millicent is one of the last women he can have
anything in common with; she would simply die of horror if she heard
any of these stories--and he can't be interested in a word she says."
"He always does the unexpected," and Stephen Strong laughed as he said
it. He himself was amused at this ill-matched pair.
"Mrs. Hardcastle is agreeable to look at, too," he continued.
Tamara smiled scornfully.
"That is the lowest view to take. One should be above material
appearance."
"Charming lady!" said Stephen Strong. "Yes, indeed you do not know the
world."
Tamara was not angry. She looked at him and smiled, showing her
beautiful teeth.
"Of course you think me a goose," she said, "but I warned you I was
one. Tell me, shall I ever grow out of it--tell me, you who know?"
"If the teacher is young and handsome enough to make your heart beat,"
said her old companion. And then Millicent and the Prince joined them.
Mrs. Hardcastle's round blue eyes were flashing brightly, and her fresh
face was aglow with exercise and enjoyment.
"Tamara dear, you are too incorrigibly lazy. Why do you sit here
instead of taking exercise? and you have no idea of the interesting
things the Prince has been telling me. All about a Russian poet
called--oh, I can't pronounce the name, but who wrote of a devil--not
exactly Faust, you know, though something like it.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51