"Where was the right place?"

"It happened to be in the wrong place," he said. He had been playing a
social game of bridge in the room of one of the passengers. At this
moment Veath was heard at the door. Hugh heartily called out to him,
bidding him to enter.

"Why, here you are! Been looking everywhere for you, old man. Sorry you
were not along this morning," said the newcomer, shaking
Ridgeway's hand.

"I didn't care to see the ship," said Hugh hastily.

"Why, how funny!" cried Grace. "How did you know we had been over the
ship?"

"Instinct," he managed to gulp in the confusion.

Veath started for the dining-room, followed by Grace and Hugh,
the latter refraining from mentioning that he had already
lunched--insufficiently though it had been; but with the return of
reason had come back his appetite and gradually he felt the old
happiness sifting into his heart.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

They were now well along in the Mediterranean. The air was cool and
crisp, yet there were dozens of people on deck watching the sunset and
the sailors who were trimming the ship. There were passengers on board
for China, Japan, India and Australia. A half hundred soldiers,
returning to the East, after a long furlough at home, made the ship
lively. They were under loose discipline and were inclined to be
hilarious. A number were forward now, singing the battle songs of the
British and the weird ones of the natives. Quite a crowd had collected
to listen, including Ridgeway and Veath, who were strolling along the
deck, arm in arm, enjoying an after-dinner smoke, and had paused in
their walk near the group, enjoying the robust, devil-may-care tones of
the gallant subalterns.

Miss Vernon was in her stateroom trying to jot down in a newly opened
diary the events of the past ten days. She was up to ears in the work,
and was almost overcome by its enthusiasm. It was to be a surprise for
Hugh at some distant day, when she could have it printed and bound for
him alone. There was to be but one copy printed, positively, and it was
to belong to Hugh. Her lover as he strode the deck was unconscious of
the task unto which she had bent her energy. He knew nothing of the
unheard-of intricacies in punctuation, spelling and phraseology. She was
forced at one time to write Med and a dash, declaring, in chagrin, that
she would add the remainder of the word when she could get to a place
where a dictionary might tell her whet