“That,” said Helen plaintively, “has all the earmarks of a dirty dig. But I forgive you, Ruthie—I am far too comfortable even to resent an insult!”
Ruth laughed and took out the picture Maurice Brandt had submitted to her, showing enlarged pictures of the interior scene shot at Hollywood.
But try as she would, she could not keep her mind upon them. Her thoughts returned again and again to the information she had gleaned from Todd.
Bloomberg in Alaska! Bloomberg in Alaska! beat a monotonous refrain over and over in her head.
“And fifteen nice long days to think about it!”
She did not realize that she had spoken aloud until she found Helen staring at her in amazement.
“For goodness’ sake—to think about what?” inquired that flippant young lady. “Wake up, Ruthie, you’ve been talking in your sleep.”
Of course, after that there was nothing to do but for Ruth to pass the news about Bloomberg along to her friend.
“Well,” observed Helen, settling back comfortably to her story, “I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you. Alaska’s a large place and we may not meet Bloomberg after all.”
If Ruth had her doubts about this she very firmly kept them to herself. And as she saw nothing of Charlie Reid and no one mentioned Bloomberg’s name again, the days on shipboard gradually settled into a pleasant, steady routine that temporarily lulled her fears to rest.