“Not necessarily,” he said gamely.  “Quite possible you and your husband may come to England.”

“Or you to Wyoming!” cried Bobby, brightening instantly, and turning upon him the full splendor of her eyes.  “Hal and I’d just love to give you a summer on the ranch.  Do you suppose it ever will be possible?”

“Oh, I dare say,” said the Honorable Percival, nonchalantly adjusting his monocle.

XVI

IN PORT

The next morning the long voyage of the Saluria came to an end.  The steamer docked at Hong-Kong just as the first pink streaks of dawn crept over the bay and the terraced city.

Bobby was up with the officers, and breakfasted alone with the captain.

“Can you spare me five minutes?” she asked as he was hurrying through his second cup of coffee.

“What for?”

“For a talk.  I’ve got something to tell you.”

“It’ll have to wait,” said the captain, gruffly.  “We are landing a cargo of sugar machinery here, and I’ve got my hands full.”

“I don’t want your hands,” said Bobby, quietly; “I want your ears.  There’s something I’ve just got to tell you.”

“I can’t listen.  I’m due on the bridge now.”

He escaped for the time being, but later In the morning, when the commotion of arrival was at its height, and the passengers were beginning to go ashore, he found Bobby on the bridge beside him.  He fancied he saw defiance written all over her, from the crown of her white hat to the tip of her white shoes.

“Captain,” she said, “It won’t take a minute.”

He was on the point of refusing when she laid her hand on his.

“Cut away!” he said, looking straight ahead of him.  “Make it short.”

“It’s about Mr. Hascombe.  He’s—­he’s asked me to marry him.”

The captain jerked his hand away and brought it down on the rail with a resounding blow.

“You sha’n’t do it!” he thundered.  “I’d see you sewed up in a bag and dropped alongside first.”

“But, Captain—­”

“I won’t have it!  There’s no use arguing.  The idea of a girl of mine being carried away by a condescending, conceited jack-in-the-box—­”

“He isn’t!  He’s a darling!” Bobby flashed out hotly.  “It’s just that you don’t understand him.”

“What’s more, I don’t want to.  I’ve had enough of him and his kind.  If I’d known you were going to run amuck of a thing like this, I’d have let you bury yourself on the ranch for the rest of your life.”

“Well,” agreed Bobby, carefully studying her pink palm, and weighing her words as one who is quite open to reason, “I think I could have been happy with Hal; but you thought we were both too young and that I ought to see some other men first.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know you were going to get your head turned by the first fool that came lording it around with a valet and a title.  The Fords may be plain people, but, by Jugs! they are the sort to tie up to in a squall.”