To Alice and Ralph this solitude was Paradise. Night after night they hired an aerocab and flew to this lonely airway, where seated side by side, with only the driver for a chaperon, they were absolutely happy.
The driver was a silent man who, as long as he was well paid for his time, was content to describe endless circles indefinitely.
On this particular evening Alice seemed, to Ralph, more lovely than he had ever before seen her. In the caressing light of the mellow moon her flowerlike face glowed with a new radiance, and her dark eyes, shadowed with long curling lashes, were mistily tender.
Between these two there was no need for words. So perfectly were their thoughts attuned that each knew what the other felt.
And so, presently, their hands stole out and met, and clasped. And it seemed to both that Heaven could hold no greater happiness than this, until, with one accord, they turned their faces to each other, and their lips met. To them nothing existed beyond themselves and their love.
The voice of another aerocab driver hailing them made them realize that there were still ties that bound them to Earth, and they moved apart a little self-consciously, as a cab drew alongside their own.
"Having some trouble with my motor," called the newcomer. "Could you let me have a few copper connectors to repair the damage?"
"Sure," returned their driver, and the two cabs came together and were made fast.
Ralph, seeing that his man could attend to the matter, turned away from them towards Alice, and again drew her hand into his own, where it snuggled confidingly.