"We'll be setting down in a couple of days," I commented casually.
"It'll be good to stretch our legs again, won't it?"
"It certainly will, sir."
"And I imagine that's the last we'll see of our fair stowaway," I
said, watching him closely.
Hendricks' face flushed and then drained white. With the tip of his
forefinger he traced meaningless geometrical patterns on the surface
of the instrument table.
"I imagine so, sir," he replied in a choked voice. And then, suddenly,
in a voice which shook with released emotion. "Oh, I know what you're
thinking!" he added. "What you've all been thinking; you, sir, and
Correy and Kincaide. Probably the men, too, for that matter.
"But it's not so! I want you to believe that, sir. I may be
impressionable, and certainly she is beautiful and--and terribly
fascinating; but I'm not quite a fool. I realize she's on the other
side; that I can't, that I must not, permit myself to care. You--you
do believe that, sir?"
"Of course, lad!" I put my hand reassuringly on his shoulder; his
whole body was shaking. "Forget it; forget her as soon as you can.
None of us have doubted you for an instant; we just--wondered."
"I could see that; I could feel it. And it hurt," said my junior
officer with shame-faced hesitancy. "But I'll forget her--after she's
gone."
I let it go at that. After all, it was a rather painful subject for us
both. The next day it did seem that he treated her with less
attention; and she noticed it, for I saw the faint shadow of a frown
form between her perfect brows, and her glance traveled meditatively
from Hendricks' flushed face to my own.
* * * * *
The next morning, after the first meal of the day, she walked down the
passage with me, one slim white hand placed gently within the curve of
my arm.
"Mr. Hendricks," she commented softly, "seems rather distraught the
last day or so."
"Yes?" I said, smiling to myself, and wondering what was coming next.
"Yes, Commander Hanson." There was just the faintest suggestion of
steeliness in her voice now. "I fancy you've been giving him good
advice, and painting me in lurid colors. Do you really think so badly
of me?" Her hand pressed my arm with warm friendliness; her great blue
eyes were watching me with beseeching interest.
"I think, Liane," I replied, "that Mr. Hendricks is a very young man."
"And that I am a dangerous woman?" She laughed softly.
"That, at least," I told her, "your interests and ours are not
identical."
"True," she said coolly, pausing before the door of her stateroom. Her
hand dropped from my arm, and she drew herself up regally. In the
bright flow of the ethon tubes overhead she was almost irresistibly
beautiful. "Our interests are not identical, Commander Hanson. They
are widely divergent, directly opposed to each other, as a matter of
fact. And--may I be so bold as to offer you a bit of advice?"