"You're just as provoking as ever. You know that I'm dying to hear everything, and you won't utter a word."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing. It was all your doing."
She crinkled her forehead in a way I knew so well. "How?"
"Do you remember one day at Hendon—we were engaged then, by the by—how you ragged me about not having the pluck to go up and about cricket being so much safer a sport, and how I flung away in a huff and marched off and got a ticket at once and went up. That was the start."
"And I remember, too, what a fright it gave me when I saw you go. I watched the aeroplane with my heart in my mouth all the time in a sort of fascinated panic lest something should go wrong."
"And when I came to look for you I found you'd gone up too."
"You don't suppose I meant you to crow over me, do you? And was that really the beginning?"
"Of course. I went up lots of times afterwards and got to like it; and when the trouble came, naturally I saw it was my job."
"Be a pal, and tell me all about what you did," she coaxed.
"All in good time, but not now. We've been alone together quite long enough to set tongues wagging as it is. I'd better be off;" and I rose.