"Because I had been thinking all along that your name was Adams."
"What made you think that?" she inquired in genuine surprise.
"W—why," he stammered, "I saw that name on one of the letters when I picked up the packet from the grating of the boat."
She flushed.
"You mustn't think," he said earnestly, "that I tried to pry. If I'd done that, I'd have found out the address at the same time. The name just looked up at me, and I couldn't help seeing it."
His tone carried conviction, and she unbent.
"I can see how you made the mistake," she smiled. "The letter on top of the packet was addressed to a very dear friend whose first name happens to be the same as mine. She and I were great chums in boarding school. The letter had been sent to her by a girl we both knew and who had been traveling abroad, and as Ruth knew I would be interested in it, she sent it on for me to read."
"That explains the foreign stamp," he commented.
"You noticed that too, did you?" she asked, flashing a mischievous glance at him. "Really, you took in a lot at a single look. You ought to be a detective."
"I wish I were," said Drew, as he thought ruefully of the unavailing plans he had made to find her. "I'm afraid I'm a pretty bungling amateur."