at I should like to have you call me if I
dared suggest them," he replied. "But for the present, suppose you
call me Allen."

"Very well, then--Allen," she conceded.

His pulses leaped.

"I don't suppose I'd dare go further and beg permission to call you
Ruth?" he hazarded.

"Make it Miss Ruth," she teased.

"No, Ruth," he persisted.

"Oh, well," she yielded, "I suppose you'll have to have it your own
way. It's frightful to have to deal with such an obstinate man as you
are, Mr.--Allen."

"It's delightful to have to deal with such a charming girl as you are,
Miss--Ruth."

They laughed happily.

"It's getting late," she said, drawing herself up out of the warm nest
that Drew had made for her, "and I think I really ought to go below."

"Don't go yet," he begged. "It isn't a bit late."

"How late is it?" she asked.

He drew out his watch and looked at it in the moonlight.

"I told you it wasn't late," he declared, putting the watch back in his
pocket.

"You don't dare let me look at it," she laughed.

"It must be fast," he affirmed.

"You're a deceiver," she retorted. "Really I must go. You wouldn't
rob me of my beauty sleep, would you?"

"Leave that to other girls," he suggested. "You don't need it."

"You're a base flatterer," she chided.

Drew reluctantly gathered up her wraps, and, with a last lingering look
at the glory of the sea and sky, they went below.

It was not really necessary for him to take her hand as they parted for
the night, but he did so.

"Good night, Ruth," he said softly.

"Good night--Allen," she answered in a low voice.

His eyes held hers for a moment, and then she vanished.

It was the happiest night that Drew had ever known. He had opened his
heart to her--not so far as he would have liked and dared, but as far
as she had permitted him. And in the soft beauty of her eyes he
thought that he had detected the beginnings of what he wanted to find
there. And she had permitted him to call her "Ruth." And she had
called him "Allen." How musical the name sounded, coming from her lips!

It was fortunate that he had the memory of that night to comfort him in
the days that followed.

Ruth was more distracting than ever the next morning when she appeared,
fresh and radiant, at the breakfast table. But in some impalpable way
she seemed to have withdrawn within herself. Perhaps she felt that she
had let herself go too far in the glamour of the moonlight.

She