"But--why--what--what----" stammered Peter.

"Oh, Mr. Moore, I know--I know!" Miss Vost proceeded earnestly. "Like
all fine, brave men, you are--you are modest! It--it almost makes me
want to cry, to think--to think----"

"But, Miss Vost," interrupted Peter, gently and gravely, "you are
shooting over my head!"

In the rakish bows of the _Hankow_ arose the clank and clatter of wet
anchor-chains. A bell tinkled in the engine-room. The stout fabric of
the little steamer shuddered. The yellow water began to slip by them.
On the shore two pagodas moved slowly into alignment. The _Hankow_ was
moving.

Miss Vost strengthened her gentle hold upon Peter's reluctant arm. Her
bright eyes were a trifle blurred. "Last night, when we met on the
bund," she went on in a small voice, "I knew
immediately--immediately--what you were. A chivalrous gentleman! A
man who would shelter and protect any helpless woman he met!"

"That was nice of you," murmured Peter.

Like Saul of Tarsus, he was beginning to see a bright light.

"And it was true!" Miss Vost plunged on. "Now--now, you are risking
your life--for poor, unworthy little me! Please don't deny it, Mr.
Moore! I only wanted to let you know that I--I understand, and that I
am--g-grateful!" Her eyelids fluttered over an unstifled moistness.

"Bobbie _loves_ you," blurted Peter. "He'd do anything in the world
for you. He told me so. He told me----"

Miss Vost opened her eyes on a look that was hurt and humiliated.
"What?"

"He'd go to hell for you!"

"He's an overgrown boy. He doesn't know what he says. That's
nonsense," declared Miss Vost, looking away from Peter. "I know his
type, Mr. Moore. He falls in love with every pretty face; and he falls
out again, quite as easily."

"You don't know Bobbie, the way I do," said Peter stubbornly.

"I don't have to. I know his kind--a girl in every port."

"No, no. Not Bobbie!"

For a moment it seemed that they had come to an _impasse_. Miss Vost
was blinking her eyes rapidly, appearing to be somewhat interested in a
junk which was poling down-stream.

She looked up with a wan smile. Tears were again in her eyes. "Mr.
Moore," she said in a broken voice, "what you've told me about Mr.
MacLaurin, Captain MacLaurin, moves me--deeply!"

"Do try to be nice to Bobbie," begged Peter. "He is the finest fellow
I know. He is true blue. He would give his life for your little
finger. Really he would, Miss Vos