Professor Cultus laughingly replied that “he really knew little about dress”—which was a fib for an anthropologist—but he supposed that “Dame Fashion was a capricious jade who often made her reputation by producing whims to meet the demand for something new; she had certainly been known to introduce what was hideous to many, simply to cover up the defects of a favorite patron.”
Carlotta at once thought, “Well, there’s nothing hideous about me. I wonder what he means?”
The Professor once started, went on about the darker races using the primitive and secondary colors only with such marked effect; that they really knew little about hues and shades as our civilization differentiates colors and effects. He was then going on to add something about color in jewels adding great effect to rich costumes, when Carlotta gave a little start, drew her wrap about her and said she felt cold and chilly.
Fraulein at once suggested they should leave the deck for the saloon. Carlotta acquiesced as if very grateful, and begged the Professor to excuse her.
Of course he did so promptly, with sympathy excited by fear lest she might have suffered in consequence of his keeping her standing too long in a cold wind.
Nothing of the sort. It was the reference made to jewels by the Professor which had caused her impromptu nervous chill. Could he possibly have noticed the too many rings she wore and concluded she might be rather loud in her taste? That must be rectified at once,—so Carlotta caught a chill on the spot, merely a little sympathetic chill, but enough to get away and arrange things better for the next interview. Certainly her tact showed foresight as well as power to meet an emergency from her point of view.
She knew instinctively the value of sympathy as well as propinquity. She had gained her first point, an introduction; now for the second, sympathy: and she was not slow to act,—much quicker than the Professor dreamed of. She did things first and discussed them afterwards; that was one of her accomplishments which he often observed later on.
No sooner in her state-room than Miss Gains snatched off every ring, all but one, a fine ruby rich in color but not too large; “rubies never are,” she said, pensive. On this one she looked with much satisfaction, it would meet her requirements yet not excite suspicion, the removal of all might do so.
But why the ruby?
Carlotta was astute, like her papa, much more so than the Professor imagined,—he learned that also later on. What troubled her now was no new matter, and largely in her own imagination. A biologist would have told her it was inherited. Being a pronounced blonde of the florid type, vivacious, fond of excitement, she had often noticed that her hands became rather rosy in color. So the ardent yet astute Miss Gains had evolved the brilliant yet practical idea that the ruby would be “the very thing to throw the other red into the shade—people will notice the ruby and speak of that.” If she could not avoid being too rosy, in her own imagination, the ruby should take the blame.