ourney or a performance, he never sent her so much as a
flower; he acted as if he were really trying to forget her, as perhaps
he was. But when they met, he was no sooner in the same room with her
than she felt the old disturbing influence she feared and yet
somehow desired in spite of herself, and much as she preferred the
companionship of Lushington and liked his loyal straightforward ways,
and admired his great talent, she felt that he paled and seemed less
interesting beside the vivid personality of the Greek financier.

He was vivid; no other word expresses what he was, and if that one
cannot properly be applied to a man, so much the worse for our
language. His colouring was too handsome, his clothes were too good,
his shoes were too shiny, his ties too surprising, and he not only
wore diamonds and rubies, but very valuable ones. Yet he was not
vulgarly gorgeous; he was Oriental. No one would say that a Chinese
idol covered with gold and precious stones was overdressed, but it
would be out of place in a Scotch kirk; the minister would be thrown
into the shade and the congregation would look at the idol. In
society, which nowadays is far from a chiaroscuro, everybody looked at
Logotheti. If he had come from any place nearer than Constantinople
people would have smiled and perhaps laughed at him; as it was, he was
an exotic, and besides, he had the reputation of being dangerous to
women's peace, and extremely awkward to meddle with in a quarrel.

Margaret sat some time in her little sitting-room reflecting on these
things, for she knew that before many days were past she must meet
her two adorers; and when she had thought enough about both, she gave
orders to her maids about arranging her belongings. By and by she went
to luncheon and found herself alone at some distance from the other
passengers, next to the captain's empty seat; but she was rather glad
that her neighbours had not come to table, for she got what she wanted
very quickly and had no reason for waiting after she had finished.

Then she took a book and went on deck again, and Alphonsine found her
chair on the sunny side and installed her in it very comfortably and
covered her up, and to her own surprise she felt that she was very
sleepy; so that just as she was wondering why, she dozed off and began
to dream that she was Isolde, on board of Tristan's ship, and that she
was singing the part, though she had never sung it and probably never
would.

When