CHAPTER VIII.
A FLAME LEAPS OUT OF THE DARK Kuroki announced dinner; Cleggett entered the captain's mess room of the cabin, where the cloth was laid, and a moment later lady Agatha emerged from the stateroom and gave him her hand with a smile.
If he had thought her beautiful before, when she wore her plain traveling suit, he thought her radiant now, in the true sense of that much abused word.

For she flung forth her charm in vital radiations.
If Cleggett had possessed a common mind he might have phrased it to himself that she hit a man squarely in the eyes.

Her beauty had that direct and almost aggressive quality that is like a challenge, and with sophisticated feminine art she had contrived that the dinner gown she chose for that evening should sound the keynote of her personality like a leitmotif in an opera.

The costume was a creation of white satin, the folds caught here and there with strings of pearls.

There was a single large rose of pink velvet among the draperies of the skirt; a looped girdle of blue velvet was the only other splash of color.