"
"You would think us all very dull, I expect, and calculating and
restrained," Tamara said softly. "You might like the hunting, but
somehow I do not see you in the picture there--"
He got up and moved restlessly to the mantlepiece, where he leaned,
while he stirred his tea absently. There was almost an air of bravado
in the insouciant tone of his next remark--
"Do you know, I did a dreadful thing," he said. "And it has grieved me
terribly, and I must have your sympathy. I hurt my Arab horse. You
remember him, Suliman, at the Sphinx?"
"Yes," said Tamara.
"I had a little party to some of my friends, and we were rather gay--
not a party you would have approved of, but one which pleased us all
the same--and they dared me to ride Suliman from the stables to the big
saloon."
"And I suppose you did?" Tamara's voice was full of contempt.
He noticed the tone, and went on defiantly:
"Of course; that was easy; only the devil of a carpet made him trip at
the bottom again, and he has strained two of his beautiful feet. But
you should have seen him!" he went on proudly. "As dainty as the finest
gentleman in and out the chairs, and his great success was putting his
forelegs on the fender seat!"
"How you have missed your meti?r!" Tamara said, and she leant back in
her sofa and surveyed him as he stood, a graceful tall figure in his
blue long coat.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102