“Sorry if I interrupted—”
“Er, no, you didn’t. That is, well, you have to be told—”
“Is something wrong, Mr. Trowbridge?” she asked quietly.
“Well, er, yes there is—”
“Anything happened to Mother or—”
“Oh, no, what a blundering ass I am; but, you know, it’s this way, the stock market—well, you’ve heard how it broke a lot of people. We have to—er, reduce expenses, er, you see—there was a meeting, and some of the pilots have to go—I’m sorry, hate to lose you, hate it like fury, and so does Wallace.”
CHAPTER II
ANOTHER HARD BLOW
After making this astonishing statement, Mr. Trowbridge walked hastily to the window and ran his fingers around his collar as if it was tight. For a moment Roberta stood in her tracks, her helmet shoved back off her forehead, her wavy hair falling in unruly twists, while her eyes stared at the man’s back so hard they finally forced him to turn around.
“Oh, I say, Miss Langwell—” he paused, then walked briskly to his desk, cleared his throat, opened and closed a drawer, and without looking at her again, spoke with an effort. “I’m sorry about this—” he got up again, “but, don’t take it so hard. You’ve got one of the best records of any pilot in the country, you own Nike, and you are sure to pick up something quickly.”