Page:Flying Death.pdf/27

 of that grey which is warmer, in eyes, than any other hue.

The boyish jacket buttoned across her breast made her only more feminine; her slight shift of herself in her seat, the little motions of her hands, the hundred imperceptible trifles which tell personality all combined to make me like her. Like her? What is the word for it when, at sight of her, your heart hurries, you forget and want to forget everyone and everything else and wish nothing but increase and extension of the moment?

Pete, I was sure, had made some extraordinary mistake. I had never seen anyone less likely to have done, deliberately, what he accused her of. If there was any shadow of sense in what he said, it must be that accidentally, through lack of skill at flight, she had blundered into him. Indeed, Pete himself seemed almost able to contradict his recollection.

"You knew about them?" he asked, more mildly.

"I heard that they had fallen because there was some structural defect in their planes."