; her pale, smooth cheeks,
rather plump, but coming oddly and enticingly to a point at the mouth
and tilted chin; her lips, somewhat too full, too red, but quick and
whimsical: he saw these all, and these only, in a bright focus,
listening meanwhile to a voice by turns languid and lively, with now and
then a curious liquid softness, perhaps insincere, yet dangerously
pleasant. Questioning, hinting, she played at motherly age and wisdom.
As for him, he never before knew how well he could talk, or how
engrossing his sober life, both in his native village on the Baltic and
afterward in Bremen, could prove to either himself or a stranger.

Yet he was not such a fool, he reflected, as to tell everything. So far
from trading confidences, she had told him only that she was bound
straight on to Hongkong; that curiosity alone had led her to travel
second-class, "for the delightful change, you know, from all such
formality"; and that she was "really more French than English." Her
reticence had the charm of an incognito; and taking this leaf from her
book, he gave himself out as a large, vaguely important person
journeying on a large, vague errand.

"But you are a griffin?" she had said, as they sat together at tea.

"Pardon?" he ventured, wary and alarmed, wondering whether he could
claim this unknown term as in character with his part.

"I mean," Miss Forrester explained, smiling, "it is your first visit to
the Far East?"

"Oh, yes," he replied eagerly, blushing. He would have given worlds to
say, "No."

"Griffins are such nice little monsters," she purred. "I like them."

Sometimes at night, waked by the snores of a fat Prussian in the upper
berth, he lay staring into the dark, while the ship throbbed in unison
with his excited thoughts. He was amazed at his happy recklessness. He
would never see her again; he was hurrying toward lonely and uncertain
shores; yet this brief voyage outvalued the rest of his life.

In time, they had left Penang,--another unheeded background for her
arch, innocent, appealing face,--and forged down the Strait of Malacca
in a flood of nebulous moonlight. It was the last night out from
Singapore. That veiled brightness, as they leaned on the rail, showed
her brown hair fluttering dimly, her face pale, half real, half magical,
her eyes dark and undefined pools of mystery. It was late; they had been
silent for a long time; and Rudolph felt that something beyond the
territory of words remained t