"I don't think I am," he protested. "As a matter of fact, I'm very humble. I find myself wondering all the time if I am worthy." "Worthy of what?" she asked. "Worthy of getting what I want," he answered. "The doubloons?" she asked mischievously. "Dear me! I can hardly imagine you in a humble role. To see the confident Mr. Drew in such a mood would certainly be refreshing." "Don't call me Mr. Drew," he protested. "It sounds so formal. We're going to be so like one big family on this ship for the next few weeks that it seems to me we might cut out some of the formality without hurting anything." "What shall I call you then?" she asked demurely. "There are lots of things that I should like to have you call me if I dared suggest them," he replied. "But for the present, suppose you call me Allen." "Very well, then--Allen," she conceded. His pulses leaped. "I don't suppose I'd dare go further and beg permission to call you Ruth?" he hazarded. "Make it Miss Ruth," she teased. "No, Ruth," he persisted. "Oh, well," she yielded, "I suppose you'll have to have it your own way. It's frightful to have to deal with such an obstinate man as you are, Mr.--Allen." "It's delightful to have to deal with such a charming girl as you are, Miss--Ruth." They laughed happily. "It's getting late," she said, drawing herself up out of the warm nest that Drew had made for her, "and I think I really ought to go below." "Don't go yet," he begged. "It isn't a bit late." "How late is it?" she asked. He drew out his watch and looked at it in the moonlight. "I told you it wasn't late," he declared, putting the watch back in his pocket. "You don't dare let me look at it," she laughed. "It must be fast," he affirmed. "You're a deceiver," she retorted. "Really I must go. You wouldn't rob me of my beauty sleep, would you?" "Leave that to other girls," he suggested. "You don't need it." "You're a base flatterer," she chided. Drew reluctantly gathered up her wraps, and, with a last lingering look at the glory of the sea and sky, they went below. It was not really necessary for him to take her hand as they parted for the night, but he did so. "Good night, Ruth," he said softly. "Good night--Allen," she answered in a low voice. His eyes held hers for a moment, and then she vanished. It was the happiest night that Drew had ever known. He had opened his heart to her--not so far as he would have liked and dared, but as far as she had permitted him. And in the soft beauty of her eyes he thought that he had detected the beginnings of what he wanted to find there. And she had permitted him to call her "Ruth." And she had called him "Allen." How musical the name sounded, coming from her lips! It was fortunate that he had the memory of that night to comfort him in the days that followed.