"Are you in earnest?" he cried.
"Of course I am in earnest," she said, trying to look straight in those bright eyes, but failing dismally. Something in his glance dazzled her. It was then that she knew the truth as well as if his mind were an open book.
"Why are you going to the Philippines?" he persisted.
She gave him a quick, frightened glance and as hastily looked away. The red of confusion rushed to her cheeks, her brow, her neck. What answer could she give?
"We are--are just taking the trip for pleasure," she stammered. "Hugh and I took a sudden notion to go to Manila and--and--well, we are going, that's all."
"You don't mean to say you are making this as a pleasure trip?" he asked, staring at her with a different light in his eyes.
"A mere whim, you know," she hurried on. "Look at those Arabs over there."
"But a pleasure trip of this kind must be awfully expensive, isn't it?" he insisted.
She hesitated for an instant and then said boldly: "You see, Mr. Veath, Hugh and I are very rich. It may not sound well for me to say it, but we have much more money than we know how to spend. The cost of this voyage is a mere trifle. Please do not think that I am boasting. It is the miserable truth." His face was very pale when she dared to look up at it again, and his gaze was far off at sea.
"And so you are very rich," he mused aloud. "I thought you were quite poor, because missionaries are seldom overburdened with riches, according to tradition, or the gospel, or something like that. This is a pleasure trip!" The bitterness of his tone could not be hidden.