“You must not go on, Mr. Lenox,” she said, turning to him, “and I must leave you.”

“Are you very angry with me?” he asked humbly.

She turned her face to the sea again and gave a sad little laugh.

“Not so much as I ought to be,” she answered; “but you yourself have given the reason why you should not say such things, and why I should not listen, and why I ought to say good-night.”

“Ah, yes,” he said bitterly; “of course you are right, and this is to be the end.”

She turned and looked at him for a moment.  “You will never again speak to me as you have to-night, will you?” she asked.

“I should not have said what I did had I not thought I should never see you again after to-morrow,” said John, “and I am not likely to do that, am I?”

“If I could be sure,” she said hesitatingly, and as if to herself.

“Well,” said John eagerly.  She stood with her eyes downcast for a moment, one hand resting on the rail, and then she looked up.

“We expect to stay in Algiers about two months,” she said, “and then we are going to Naples to visit some friends for a few days, about the time you told me you thought you might be there.  Perhaps it would be better if we said good-bye to-night; but if after we get home you are to spend your days in Homeville and I mine in New York, we shall not be likely to meet, and, except on this side of the ocean, we may, as you say, never see each other again.  So, if you wish, you may come to see me in Naples if you happen to be there when we are.  I am sure after to-night that I may trust you, may I not?  But,” she added, “perhaps you would not care.  I am treating you very frankly; but from your standpoint you would expect or excuse more frankness than if I were a young girl.”

“I care very much,” he declared, “and it will be a happiness to me to see you on any footing, and you may trust me never to break bounds again.”  She made a motion as if to depart.

“Don’t go just yet,” he said pleadingly; “there is now no reason why you should for a while, is there?  Let us sit here in this gorgeous night a little longer, and let me smoke a cigar.”

At the moment he was undergoing a revulsion of feeling.  His state of mind was like that of an improvident debtor who, while knowing that the note must be paid some time, does not quite realize it for a while after an extension.  At last the cigar was finished.  There had been but little said between them.

“I really must go,” she said, and he walked with her across the hanging bridge and down the deck to the gangway door.

“Where shall I address you to let you know when we shall be in Naples?” she asked as they were about to separate.

“Care of Cook & Son,” he said.  “You will find the address in Baedeker.”

He saw her the next morning long enough for a touch of the hand and a good-bye before the bobbing, tubby little boat with its Arab crew took the Ruggleses on board.