thwart them. One of them nearly
did so!" and Geoffrey, hesitating, glanced down at his companion just a
second too late to notice the look of suspiciously-eager interest in
her face, for Millicent had put on the mask again. She was a clever
actress, quick to press into her service smile or sigh, where words
might have been injudicious, and with feminine curiosity and love of
unearthing a secret, was bent on drawing out the whole story. It did
not necessarily follow that she should impart the secret to her
husband, she said to herself. Geoffrey was, for the moment, off his
guard, and victory seemed certain for the woman.

"How did that happen?" she asked, outwardly with languid indifference,
inwardly quivering with suspense, but, as luck would have it, the
steamer, entering one of the tide races which sweep those narrow
waters, rolled wildly just then, and Geoffrey held her chair fast while
the book fell from her knee and went sliding down the slanted deck.
Vexed and nervously anxious, Millicent bit one red lip while Thurston
pursued the volume, and she could hardy conceal her chagrin when he
returned with it.

"It flew open and a page or two got wet in the scuppers. Still, it
will soon dry in the sun, and because I did my best, you will excuse me
being a few seconds too slow to save it," Geoffrey apologized.

Millicent was willing to allow him to deceive himself as to the cause
of her annoyance.

"It was a borrowed book, and I can hardly return it in this condition.
It is really vexatious," she replied, wondering how to lead the
conversation back to the place where it was interrupted. She might
have succeeded, but fate seemed against her. A passenger, who knew
them both, strolled by and nodded to Geoffrey.

"I have been looking for you, Thurston, and if Mrs. Leslie, accepting
my excuses, can spare you for a few minutes, I have something important
to tell you," said the man. "I wouldn't have disturbed you, but we'll
be alongside Vancouver wharf very shortly."

Millicent could only bow in answer, and after an apologetic glance in
her direction, Geoffrey followed the passenger.

"Mrs. Leslie's a handsome woman, though one would guess she had a
temper of her own. Perhaps you didn't notice it, but she just looked
daggers at you when you let that book get away," observed the
companion, who smiled when Geoffrey answered:

"Presumably, you didn't take all this trouble to acquaint me with that
fact?"

"No,"