“I certainly will, and thank you.”
The frail old man sitting across the aisle from Mr. Eaton-Smith was certainly not a veteran air traveler. Vicki could tell that at a glance. He actually looked frightened as he sat tensely in his seat, still wearing his overcoat and with his violin case clutched between his knees. A breath-taking panorama was unfolding just below the window next to which he was sitting. But he was paying no attention to it, staring intently at the back of the seat in front of him.
“Are you feeling all right, sir?” Vicki asked gently. “May I take your overcoat?”
“No—no, thank you, miss. I—I’m cold.”
Vicki bent over him anxiously. Why, this man was half fainting!
“Are you feeling ill, sir?”
“Hungry,” he whispered.
“Just a minute.”
Vicki hurried to the galley. Obviously, Mr. Tytell could not wait until lunch was served. She placed a sandwich and a cup of coffee on a tray and carried it back to the old man.
“There,” she said. “That should make you feel better.”