The silver ship rolled up with friendly little snorts and chuckles and stopped beside her. Billy took her upstretched hand and jumped down. They left the plane to Hansen and his crew and walked away together in the twilight down the row of brooding hangars.
“Oh,” Jennie sighed happily, “I am glad, Billy!”
“Glad? Why, particularly, Jennie?”
“I—I don’t know. How was the ship today?”
“Better than ever, Jennie.”
He paused, hesitating to voice the thought that followed, groping, too, for words to give it form. Then:
“Do you know,” he said, “there’s something about that ship and you, Jennie, that⸺ Well, what I mean is that when I am with that ship and when I am with you I sort of feel—the same way. Kind of comfortable and—and, well, happy, Jennie. Do you know what I mean?”
He felt her sway toward him. He felt her hand on his arm.
“Perhaps”—she answered, a little breathlessly, “perhaps I do, Billy—tonight!”
“Why ‘tonight,’ Jennie?”