“He didn’t come for me first, Hubert.”
“Maybe not; but you wished he had; I’m glad,” he went on quickly before she could rejoin, “that this has taught Gerry a few things.”
It was evident from his manner that he meant “things” in relation to her; and that puzzled her, for she could not feel any alteration in Gerry Hull’s manner at all. To be sure, she had gone into the sea to try to rescue one whom she thought was he; Gerry Hull knew this. But that was not the sort of thing which could undo the opposition between them. Yet it was plain, upon succeeding days, that Hubert had discerned a fact; she had become again a person of real concern to Gerry Hull.
She dated the start of that rehabilitation of herself not with her adventure in the sea or with the moment when he carried her in his arms; but with that instant when they stood together watching the U. S. S. Starke come up. That rehabilitation proceeded fast the next days when, after the Ribot had repaired both engines, the Starke brought the ship into a convoy—a fleet of some thirty merchant vessels of all sorts and under a dozen flags, belligerent and neutral, guarded and directed by a flotilla of American destroyers, with the senior American officer in command of all the convoy.
British trawlers joined them soon, adding their protection; two of the destroyers sent up balloons which they towed; and now, by day, British and French dirigible balloons and British and French and, yes, American seaplane pilots appeared. And no submarine, in those waters supposed to be infested with U-boats, once showed a periscope. By day and night, the patrol and protection of those American destroyers proved perfect. So by that protection they came at last to France.
Gerry sought out Ruth upon the last morning when they would be on shipboard. It was a smiling, sunny day, warm for that time in the year. In addition to the ships of the sea and air which recently had accompanied them constantly, strange little business-like boats approached, airplanes from the land spied upon them; and as they drew near to the port, Ruth got amazing sight of the multifold activities of even this still distant threshold to war.
“You’re going to Paris right away?” Gerry asked.
“As soon as I can get through.”
“We’ll get a train that’ll probably bring us in at night. If you’ve not made arrangements ahead——”
“I have, thanks; rather Hubert’s offered to see to me; besides his aunt gave me letters to cousins of hers who’ve been living in Paris for years. They’re Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Mayhew; they’ve an apartment on the Avenue Kléber. I’m to go there my first night anyway.”