"Oh, Captain Dexter!" ejaculated Belinda, in horror. "You would have sunk her with all her crew?"
"Well, I don't see how I could have saved 'em," responded the captain, with some disgust. "They'd have sunk us quick enough."
"But you say yourself they are only obeying orders!" she exclaimed spiritedly.
"Ha! And I'm afraid my hand would have obeyed the orders of my brain without much compunction," concluded the captain grimly.
The incident colored the entire voyage in the memory of all. Belinda's remembrance of it was bound to be a painful one.
This was not alone because of the submarine chase. Continually in her thought was the vision of the way Frank Sanderson had looked at her—the little he had said—the pressure of his hand.
Had she given him further opportunity, would he have spoken the word that was the master key to her heart?
She trembled at the thought. Yet, there was that other woman—the kiddies——
She half hated him! She wholly loved him! They landed, and she and Aunt Roberta journeyed slowly to Paris without Sanderson's having been given the opportunity to speak again to Belinda in private.