A glance from the girl reminded the captain of a duty he had overlooked.
"I was forgetting that you two hadn't met," he said. "Drew, this is my daughter, Miss Hamilton. Ruth, this is Mr. Allen Drew, the young man I've been telling you so much about lately."
They acknowledged the introduction and for one fleeting, delicious moment her soft hand rested in his.
So she was Captain Hamilton's daughter! Her name was not Adams! What a blind trail he had been following!
But Drew's thoughts were interrupted by the girl's voice.
"We have met before, Daddy," Ruth said with a smile. "Don't you remember my telling you about the young man who came to my aid that day when I went on an errand for you to the Normandy? You remember—the day I dropped the letters over the side? That was Mr. Drew."
"You don't say!" exclaimed the captain. "And here we've been seeing each other every day or so and I've never thanked him. Drew, consider yourself thanked by a grateful father."
They all laughed, and then the captain put his hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Come into the cabin and let's get that business settled. You'll excuse us, won't you, Ruth?" he added, turning to his daughter. "We've got a hundred things to do yet, and we can't afford to lose a minute."
Ruth smilingly assented, and Drew was dragged off, raging internally, his only comfort being the glance she gave him beneath her lowered eyelids.