A thousand little accidents might have betrayed her—and and she had escaped them all. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to her. Once or twice one of the men had spoken to her, but a wave of the hand had been answer enough for him. It had been all right. And of course everything was going to be all right.
She was not going to be put off by pretexts any longer.
And she was not going to be left behind, without him. In another minute—two minutes—they would be off, he and she!
Furtively she glanced round.
Paul was holding both the Aeroplane Lady's small, capable hands in those big boy's paws of his.
"Good-bye," he was saying. "So long, I mean. I say, you'll——"
"I'll look after her," promised the Aeroplane Lady, very brightly.
"Thanks awfully. You would," said Paul. "Bless you."
"My dear boy——" began the Aeroplane Lady as if she were going to say something grave, but she ended lightly, "Well, you've a glorious day for it. The best of luck!—And to you, Mr. Ryan!"
Again the passenger waved a gloved hand in reply.