am positive that I was told it was Mr.
Veath who was in love with Miss Ridge."

"But he isn't," hastily cried Hugh, turning hot and cold by turns. "He's
just a friend. She--she is to marry another chap." Here he gulped
painfully. "But please don't breathe it to a soul. She'd hate me
forever. Can I trust you?" To himself, he was saying: "I am making a
devil of a mess of this elopement."

"This is a very large world, Mr. Ridge, and this voyage is a mere
trifle in time. When we leave the ship we may be parting forever, so her
secret would be safe, even though I shrieked it all over the East. You
will return to America before long, I presume?"

"I'm sure I don't know. We may stay a year or no."

"Then the wedding is not a thing of the immediate future?"

"Oh, yes--that is, I mean, certainly not."

"Pardon me for asking so many questions. It is very rude of me." She
said it so penitently that Hugh, unable to find words, could only wave
his hands in deprecation. "Isn't it a perfect evening?" she went on,
turning to the sea. The light breeze blew the straying raven hair away
from her temples, leaving the face clearly chiselled out of the night's
inkiness. Hugh's heart thumped strangely as he noted her evident
intention to remain on deck. She turned to him swiftly and he averted
his eyes, but not quickly enough to prevent her seeing that he had been
scrutinizing her intently. What she may have intended to say was never
uttered. Instead, she observed, a trifle coldly:

"I must bid you good-night, Mr. Ridge."

"Pray, not yet," he cried; "I was just about to ask if we might not sit
in these chairs here for a little while. It is early and it is so
charming to-night." He looked into her eyes again and found that she was
gazing searchingly into his. A light smile broke into life and she
seemed to be satisfied with the momentary analysis of the man
before her.

"It does seem silly to stay below on a night like this. Shall we sit
here?" She indicated two vacant chairs well forward. The young lady
scorned a steamer rug, so he sat beside her, conscious that, despite her
charming presence, he was beginning to feel the air keenly. But he could
not admit it to this slight Englishwoman.

For half an hour or more they sat there, finding conversation easy,
strangely interesting to two persons who had nothing whatsoever in
common. He was charmed, delighted with this vivacious girl. And yet
something mournful seemed to shade the bril