“Are we going by plane?” Lefty asked enthusiastically. “You mean, we’re going to fly all the way?”
Panama shook his head in a hopeless manner, and with an expression of disgust, muttered, “In the Aviation Corps and fly? Don’t be silly. We’ll bobsled it all the way!”
Lefty laughed at his friend’s tolerant dry humor and reached down for the hand pump, turning back to his work on the tire in a happy, anticipating frame of mind, while the sergeant leaned against the fuselage of the plane, his mind wandering away to the hospital across the field and the little nurse inside.
His hand mechanically reached to the breast pocket of his blouse wherein were hidden the snapshots of Elinor he had just taken from her desk. He smiled confidently, reached into his pocket, removed the photographs and gazing down upon the laughing eyes of the lovely girl, his entire manner softened under the spell cast over him by her likeness.
For the want of someone to confide in, he turned to Lefty and asked, “Hey, bozo, have you got a girl?”
Phelps dropped his pump and raised himself, casting a hurried glance in the direction of the hospital and smiling confidently. “Yes—that is, I think so.”
Panama showed signs of interest and understanding in the romance of his fellow man. “Is she good-looking?”
“Great!”
Williams had his doubts concerning this. “No woman in the world could possibly be as pretty as Elinor,” he assured himself, though tactfully refraining from saying so aloud, adding instead, “Well, if you got a girl and she knows it, you’d better say good-by to her ’cause I just said good-by to mine!”
“You don’t mean to tell me you’ve got a sweetheart?” Lefty asked, tickled silly over this opportunity of gaining a chance to chide Panama. “Is it possible?”