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 polished by the spilt ale of generations, and where the landlady, a buxom widow in a cap, greeted us courteously.

I stayed for a quarter of an hour, and smoked a cigarette. Then, rising, I said loudly:

'Well—you go over and see about it. Make the best bargain you can. But don't pay more than ninety to ninety-five. Jack will run over in the car for you sometime this evening.'

And so giving the landlady the idea that my friend was about to go out and do business with some neighbouring farmer, I went out and drove as rapidly as I could back to Holly Farm.

That afternoon I spent with Theed tuning up in the yard, running the dynamo, making tests of the searchlight, manipulating the dual controls, and seeing to my altimeter and other instruments. I intended that, as far as was humanly possible, there should be no hitch of any kind.

Roseye, in her mechanic's overalls, helped me eagerly. Her small hands, so white and delicate at the Savoy or the Carlton, were now oily and grimy, and across her chin was a smudge of oil, giving her an almost weird and comical appearance.

'Well?' she asked. 'And what does it matter, pray? I haven't my best frock on, nor my newest crêpe-de-chine blouse.'

Yes. She was a real 'sport.' She knew as much of aircraft as most pilots in the services, and could effect a repair as well as most of the cigarette-smoking mechanics of the Royal Flying Corps. Women, when they take to flying aeroplanes, are often too daring, and take risks at which men would hesitate.