“Alone and untethered for the first time in ages. Same with you?”
“You’re right as to the alone part; but I am not altogether free. I have to give an exhibition fool flight this afternoon in my little old flier. We’ll have dinner together, and the rest of the day. Will you?”
“Will I? Try me.”
“What’s the idea, Pen?” he asked as they went into the long dining-room and chose a remote table.
“I don’t know, Larry. I had one, but I seem to have lost it in trying to pick up others. I’m floundering.”
“You’ve always been in wrong, Pen. Wish you’d find your level. You made me ashamed of my old life. I am string-straight now, thanky.”
“I am glad, Larry. You never were crooked, you know—just a bit reckless. Tell me about yourself.”
“You gave me a good steer when you suggested this sky stuff. I don’t believe a flying man could be very bad—up there in the clouds in a world all his own. Whenever I felt as if I must break over the traces and go off for a time, I’d just get into my little old flier and hit the high spots and that would give me more thrills than all the thirst parlors ever brought. I am going soon to fly for France. In fact, I’m ‘on my way’ now.”
“Larry! I am proud of you! But it tugs at my heartstrings to have you go, and in an aeroplane!”
“Did you ever go up, Pen?”