“You forget the hand-bag,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but one does not start for northern Alaska with only a hand-bag scarcely large enough to contain a change of linen, Miss Standish.”
“But I did, Captain Rifle.”
“True. And I saw you fighting past the guards like a little wildcat. It was without precedent.”
“I am sorry. But they were stupid and difficult to pass.”
“Only by chance did I happen to see it all, my child. Otherwise the ship’s regulations would have compelled me to send you ashore. You were frightened. You can not deny that. You were running away from something!”
He was amazed at the childish simplicity with which she answered him.
“Yes, I was running away—from something.”
Her eyes were beautifully clear and unafraid, and yet again he sensed the thrill of the fight she was making.
“And you will not tell me why—or from what you were escaping?”