To his surprise, however, as he was about to slip into a
far-away chair, she beckoned from her table. "I kept this seat for you,"
she said. "I hoped you wouldn't mind."
"Mind!" He was on the point of repaying her kindness with a conventional
little compliment, but thought better of it, and expressed his meaning
in a smile.
The oak-panelled saloon was provided with a number of small tables, and
at the one where Victoria Ray sat, were places for four. Three were
already occupied when Stephen came; one by Victoria, the others by a
German bride and groom.
At the next table were two French officers of the Chasseurs d'Afrique,
the English clergyman Stephen had noticed on deck, and a remarkably
handsome Arab, elaborately dressed. He sat facing Victoria Ray and
Stephen Knight, and Stephen found it difficult not to stare at the
superb, pale brown person whose very high white turban, bound with light
grey cord, gave him a dignity beyond his years, and whose pale grey
burnous, over a gold-embroidered vest of dark rose-colour, added
picturesqueness which appeared theatrical in eyes unaccustomed to the
East.
Stephen had never seen an Arab of the aristocratic class until to-day;
and before, only a few such specimens as parade the Galerie Charles
Trois at Monte Carlo, selling prayer-rugs and draperies from Algeria.
This man's high birth and breeding were clear at first glance. He was
certainly a personage aware of his own attractions, though not
offensively self-conscious, and was unmistakably interested in the
beauty of the girl at the next table.
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