entrancing as she was in that dim
light, her face the picture of proud defiance.

"I wonder not a little that you have not asked for a divorce long before
this."

"You are not a woman or you would not ask that."

"Lots of women ask for divorces."

"It should be the last resort with any woman. But let us talk of
something else. Where is your sister? I have not seen her to-day."

This question was particularly ill-timed, for it restored the forgotten
bitterness to the position from which it had been temporarily driven by
the interruption.

"I don't know," he answered.

"I thought I heard her talking to you here a few moments ago--in fact, I
saw you."

"Where were you?"

"I passed within a dozen feet of you. Neither of you saw me, I am sure.
You would not have cut me intentionally, would you?"

"I should say not. You walked past here?"

"Yes, you were tying her shoe-string."

"What!" exclaimed he, starting to his feet, "tying Grace's shoe-string?"
The first thought that rushed to his mind was that Veath had knelt to
plead his love to Grace Vernon.

"Lady Huntingford, let us walk," he exclaimed. It was a fierce,
impatient command instead of a polite invitation. The pretty young
woman calmly lay back in her chair and laughed. "If you won't come, then
please excuse me. I must go."

"Why are you so eager to walk, Mr. Ridgeway?" she asked.

"Because I want--what was that you called me?" he gasped, his heart
almost turning upside down.

"Ridgeway. That's your name, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, a great many things," she said with a serious face.

Hugh was visibly annoyed. There was to be more trouble from the
nobleman; evidently he did not intend to keep his promise.

"In the first place," she continued, "I must acknowledge that I forced
from my husband an account of last night's affair; he also told me your
name. But, believe me, it will go no further. I cannot thank you enough,
Mr. Ridgeway," the color stealing into her cheeks.

Ridgeway bowed.

"In the next place," she went on playfully, "you are very jealous of Mr.
Veath. Tut, tut, yes you are," with a gesture of protest. "He thinks
Miss Ridge is your sister, and she is not your sister. And lastly,
nobody on board knows these facts but the very bright woman who is
talking to you at this moment."

"But you are mistaken, madam," with a last attempt at assumption of
dignity.

"Would I say this to you if I were not positive? You think you