expression of extraordinary charm. His whole personality breathed
attraction, every human being who approached him was conscious of it.
As for his eyes, they were enormous, with broad full lids, mystical,
passionate, and yet unconcerned. Always they suggested something
Eastern, though on the whole he was fair. Tamara's own soft brown hair
was only a shade lighter than his.

She was not sure yet, but now thought his eyes were gray.

She could have asked him a number of questions she wanted answered, but
she refrained. He suddenly turned and looked at her full in the face.
He had been gazing fixedly at the sea, and these movements of quickness
were disconcerting, especially as Tamara found herself caught in the
act of studying his features.

"What on earth made you go to the Sphinx?" he asked.

Anger rose in Tamara; the inference was not flattering, in his speech,
or the tone in which he uttered it.

"To count the number of stones the creature is made of, of course," she
said. "Those technical things are what one would go for at that time of
night."

And now her companion rippled with laughter, infectious, joyous
laughter.

"Ah, you are not so stupid as I thought!" he said, frankly. "You looked
poetic and fine with that gauze scarf around your head sitting there--
and then afterwards. Wheugh! It was like a pretty wax doll. I regretted