He was going
to sail the yacht himself, and he was dressed for his work,
picturesquely, in white duck trousers, white silk shirt, and black
velvet shooting jacket. He dined with the permission of the ladies, in
this costume, in which he looked so much handsomer than in the livery of
polite life. He had a red scarf tied round his waist, and when at his
work by-and-by, he wore a little red silk cap, just stuck lightly on his
dark hair. The dinner to-day was all animation and even excitement, very
different from the languorous calm of yesterday. Lesbia seemed a new
creature. She talked and laughed and flashed and sparkled as she had
never yet done within Mr. Smithson's experience. He contemplated the
transformation with wonder not unmixed with suspicion. Never for him had
she been so brilliant--never in response to his glances had her violet
eyes thus kindled, had her smile been so entrancingly sweet. He watched
Montesma, but in him he could find no fault. Even jealousy could hardly
take objection to the Spaniard's manner to Lady Lesbia.
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