CHAPTER XII.
THE LURE OF GOLD "Philip, I want to tell you something." "Something pleasant ?" "No." "Then why tell me ?" "Because, unhappily, it must be told.

I hope you will forgive me, though I shall never forgive myself.

Oh, my dear, my dear, why did we ever meet?
And what am I to say?
I--well, I have promised to marry another man." "Disgraceful!" said Philip.
Though Iris's faltered confession might fairly be regarded as astounding, Philip was unmoved.

The German captain had given him a cigar, and he was examining it with a suspicion that was pardonable after the first few whiffs.
"Philip dear, this is quite serious," said Iris, momentarily withdrawing her wistful gaze from the far-away line where sapphire sea and amber sky met in harmony.

Northeastern Brazil is a favored clime.
Bad weather is there a mere link, as it were, between unbroken weeks of brilliant sunshine, when nature lolls in the warmth and stirs herself only at night under the moon and the stars.