"Won't you include me?" asked Veath.
"Certainly," answered Grace promptly.
"Be delighted," echoed Hugh, swallowing as if it were an effort.
"I must get a wrap," said Grace. "I won't delay you more than five minutes."
"I'll get my overcoat and some cigars," added Hugh.
"And I'll write a short letter to post at Malta," said Veath, and they separated.
A short while later, a steward passed Hugh's stateroom, and he called to him to step to the next door and tell Miss Ridge that he was ready.
"Miss Ridge just went up with her gentleman--" the man responded; but Hugh interrupted, slamming the door. For several minutes he stood glaring at the upper corner of his berth; then he said something strong. Every vestige of his exuberance disappeared, his brow clouded and his heart seemed to swell painfully within its narrow confines.
As he was about to ascend the steps of the companionway, he heard the swish of skirts and then a sharp scream. In an instant he was half way up, his arms extended. Lord Huntingford's daughter plunged into them, and he literally carried her to the foot. She was pale and trembling and he was flushed. He had looked up in time to see her falling forward, vainly striving to reach the hand rail.
"Are you hurt?" he asked anxiously. The young lady sat down upon the second step before answering, a delightful pink stealing over her face.