"I suppose he knew he could trust the child," thought the Aeroplane Lady as she closed the door of the Wing-room between herself and those two in the office, "but I don't know that I should have engaged her if I'd known. I don't want lovers about the place, here. Of course, this explains his Aviation dinner and everything——"
Little Gwenna, standing with her small face buried against the Aviator's tweed jacket, was sighing out that she hadn't meant to come in, hadn't meant to look at that horrible gun....
The girl didn't know what she was saying. The boy scarcely heard it. He was rumpling with his cheek the short, silky curls he had always longed to touch. Presently he tilted her cherub's head back against his shoulder, then put both his hands about that throat of hers.
She gave an unsteady little laugh.
"You'll throttle me," she murmured.
Without loosening his clasp, he bent his fair head further down, and kissed her, very gently, on the mouth.
"Don't mind, do you?" he said, into another kiss. "Do you?"
At that moment the Little Thing in his arms had banished all thought of those Big Things from his mind.