“I say!” he said. “What a find!”
“The taxi’s mounting up,” said René.
“I say, you take me out to Hendon and we’ll have a yarn. They told me you were still at it, and I was meaning to come and see you, but I’m up to my eyes in work. Let me drive.”
He took the wheel and sent the car whizzing through the traffic at a speed that made René cry out in protest that he’d have him run in and his license forfeited. Kurt slowed down a little.
“Cars crawl so,” he said, “once you’ve tried a flier.”
“I’ve seen your name in the papers.”
“Yes. I won my first race, Glasgow to Edinburgh round the coast of Scotland. Bit stiff, some of it, with mist and rain. I say, I am glad to see you. You’re looking fit. Better life than mugging away with books, what? Though I don’t know that I’d care about being out in the streets in all weathers, what?”
“Oh, you get used to that. I hate it when the engine goes wrong and I have to stay at home.”
They reached Hendon and Kurt took his old friend to see his new monoplane.