His tall figure straightened and his eyes gleamed chivalrously.  The young woman’s dark, mysterious eyes swept over him for a second, resting at last upon those which looked admiringly into them from above.  She made a movement as if to pass on, gravely smiling a farewell.

“I beg your pardon,” he said hastily.  “You called me Mr. Veath a moment ago.  It may be of no consequence to you, yet I should like to tell you that my name is Ridge—­Hugh Ridge.”

“It is my place to beg forgiveness.  But I understood your name was Veath, and that you were—­were”—­here she smiled tantalizingly—­“in love with the beautiful American, Miss Ridge.”

“The dev—­dick—­I mean, the mischief you did!  Well, of all the fool conclusions I’ve ever heard, that is the worst.  In love with my sister!  Ho, ho!” He laughed rather too boisterously.

“But there is a Mr. Veath on board, is there not?—­a friend?”

“A Mr. Henry Veath going into the American Revenue Service at Manila.”

“How stupid of me!  However, I 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.