t too, perhaps--but I don't think a fortune would induce you to
leave the stage yet a while. You'd want to go on, not for the money
perhaps, but for the fun."

"I haven't been dancing for fun."

"Haven't you?"

"No. I began with a purpose. I'm leaving the stage for a purpose. And
you say you can guess what that is. If you know, you must have been
told."

"Since you insist, it occurred to me that you might be going to marry.
I thought maybe you were travelling to Africa to----"

She laughed. "Oh, you _are_ wrong! I don't believe there ever was a girl
who thinks less about marrying. I've never had time to think of such
things. I've always--ever since I was nine years old--looked to the one
goal, and aimed for it, studied for it, lived for it--at last, danced
towards it."

"You excite my curiosity immensely," said Stephen. And it was true. The
girl had begun to take him out of himself.

"There is lunch," she announced, as a bugle sounded.

Stephen longed to say, "Don't go yet. Stop and tell me all about the
'goal' you're working for." But he dared not. She was very frank, and
evidently willing, for some reason, to talk of her aims, even to a
comparative stranger; yet he knew that it would be impertinent to
suggest her sitting out on deck to chat with him, while the other
passengers lunched.

He asked if she were hungry, and she said she was. So was he, now that
he came to think of it; nevertheless he let her go in alone, and waited
deliberately for several minutes before following. He would have liked
to sit by Miss Ray at the table, but wished her to see that he did not
mean to presume upon any small right of acquaintanceship. As she was on
the stage, and extremely attractive, no doubt men often tried to take
such advantage, and he didn't intend to be one of them; therefore he
supposed that he had lost the chance of placing himself near her in the
dining-room. To his surprise, however, as he was about to slip into a
far-away chair, she beckoned from her table. "I kept this seat for you,"
she said. "I hoped you wouldn't mind."

"Mind!" He was on the point of repaying her kindness with a conventional
little compliment, but thought better of it, and expressed his meaning
in a smile.

The oak-panelled saloon was provided with a number of small tables, and
at the one where Victoria Ray sat, were places for four. Three were
already occupied when Stephen came; one by Victoria, the others by a
German bride and groo