"No, Harry; you know that I'm not."
Their hands touched for a moment across the corner of the little breakfast table. Their eyes looked at each other as they had looked in the days when he, the young student interpreter, who had just got his first step in the service and was home on his first furlough, with all the romance about him of having lived in the Far East amidst far, strange peoples, won the love of the young girl, fresh out of a boarding-school. A flush suffused her delicate face, making it look very youthful and beautiful.
It was in a gentle tone that the husband continued:
"You really think that this is what is the matter with Miss MacAllister, that she is in danger of losing her heart to the big Canadian doctor?"
"Yes, I do. She told me that they had a bit of a tiff coming over on the Hailoong, and that she sauced him shamefully. But he got back at her before they left the boat, and now she wants to get even. She knows that there is something wrong with her, and has a suspicion what it is. That is what makes her so hard on him. She doesn't want to give in."
"A case of playing with fire?"
"Yes, I fancy it is."
"Well, it may be only a passing flirtation, quite harmless to all concerned. But if it is anything more, and she has a notion of turning this Asiatic trip of hers into a matrimonial venture, by Jove! I believe that big doctor, with all his notions about being a missionary, is the best investment she could make in these parts."
"Her mother doesn't think so."
"What has she in view?"