The pair caught breath sharply and Hugh almost snorted aloud.  Grace could do nothing but look up to where she saw the red fluctuating glow of a cigar tip in the darkness.  It made her think of a little moon which could breathe like herself.

“It all goes to show how deceptive appearances can be,” went on Veath easily.  “Don’t you want to walk, Miss Ridge?  I’m sure you need exercise.”

“I promised Hugh I would drive away his blues, Mr. Veath.  Thank you, but I believe I’ll sit here for a while and then go below,” she said, a trifle disconnectedly.

“We’ll take Hugh along,” said Veath obligingly.  “Come along, both of you.”

“Excuse me, Henry, but I don’t feel like walking,” said Hugh, a tinge of sullenness in his manner.

“Lazy, eh?  Well, I’ll bring Miss Ridge back in half an hour.  You wouldn’t have me wander about this dismal old boat alone, would you?  Smoke a cigar, Hugh, and I’ll take care of your sister while you count the stars.”  He offered Hugh a cigar.

Hugh rose suddenly and started away.

“Hugh!” called she, “come and walk with us.”  He could distinguish the loving entreaty, the trouble in her tones, but he was unreasonable.

“Never mind me,” he sang out with an assumption of cheerfulness.  Grace flushed hotly, her heart swelling with injured pride.  Without another word she rose and walked away with Veath.  Indignation burned within her soul until she went to sleep, hours afterward.

Ridgeway stamped the full length of the promenade before he came to an understanding with himself.  On reaching that understanding, he whirled and walked back to where he had left them, expecting to find Veath occupying the chair he had vacated.  Of course they were not to be found, so he threw himself on one of the chairs, more miserable than he had been since they started on their voyage.  The lady in the chair to his left stirred nervously and then a soft laugh came from her lips.

“Are you sleepy, Mr. Ridge?” she asked.  Hugh turned quickly and looked into the face of Lady Huntingford.

“Not at all,” he replied.  “But how strange it seems that you should always appear like the fairy queen when I am most in need of a bracer.  Oh, I beg your pardon,” he went on, rising in some perturbation.  “I forgot that there is a—­a barrier between us.  War has been declared, I fear.”

“I am ready to make friendly overtures,” she said gaily.  “Isn’t there some such thing as a treaty which requires a strong power to protect its weaker ally in time of stress?”

“You mean that we may still be friends in spite of all that happened last night?” he cried.  She nodded her head and smiled, and he shook her hand as only an impulsive American would.

“But Lord Huntingford?  What will he say?” he asked.

“His Lordship’s authority can be carried to a certain limit and no farther,” she said, and her eyes flashed.  “He knows when to curse and abuse; but he also knows when that attitude might operate against him.  He is not in a position to push me to the wall.”