"You hardly look any more--twenty, perhaps, and--never kissed!"

A memory rose up of a scorched neck, and suddenly Tamara's long
eyelashes rested on her cheek.

Then into his splendid eyes came a fierce, savage, passionate gleam,
which she did not see, but dimly felt, and he said in a low voice a
little thick:

"And--as--yet--never really kissed."

"Milly," said Tamara, as calmly as she could, "what time do we get into
Brindisi to-morrow morning? And think of it, on Thursday night we shall
be at home."

Home seemed so very safe!

The Prince did not come in to luncheon, something was the matter with
his Arab horse, and he had gone to see to it just before--a concern on
his face as of the news of illness to his nearest kin.

Tamara was gay and charming, and laughed with Stephen Strong and the
captain in quite an unusual way for her. They both thought her an
adorable woman. Poor Tamara! and so she really was.

About tea-time Prince Milaslávski turned up again.

"He is all right now," he said, sure that his listeners were in perfect
sympathy with him. "It was those fools down there. I have made them
suffer, I can say," and then he turned to Stephen Strong. "Among the