"They must be disturbed about him, I suppose," Belinda agreed. "And he's such a splendid, brave old man."
"He's the kind of American I'm proud of," the aviator said earnestly. "Perhaps he may be somewhat boastful, but in these days that has actually become a virtue. You must confess, Miss Melnotte, that we Americans have much to be proud of."
"Have we?" she retorted, smiling rather seriously. "I do not know—I am not sure that I may claim much part in America or things American."
"Ah!" he said, with quick understanding. "This work here has made you feel that your sympathies are all with your father's people?"
"It is so," she admitted.
"You lack the proper perspective—yet," he said, nodding. "But you will get it before long, I am sure. The skipper and I have an advantage over you, to be sure. But your country—America—will be in this war before long."
"God forbid!" she murmured.
"It cannot be helped. The autocratic government of Germany has gone mad with lust of blood and power. Before long," and he gestured toward the Stars and Stripes so brightly gleaming in her trophy of banners on the wall, "that flag will become the most beautiful thing you ever looked upon!"
"Oh, Mr. Sanderson!" she said deprecatingly. "You are over-enthusiastic. You seem so sure the United States will come in."
"As sure as I am of my own existence," he told her gravely. Then, in a suddenly altered tone, and speaking softly, he added: "I wish, indeed, I were as sure of something else."