"Ah, but I shouldn't take long to learn. I'm good with machinery. Besides, if you won't teach me I won't buy one of your machines, and that'll be worse for your partner than just the few hours you'd have to give up—two, wasn't it, that man learned in the other day? Won't you at least ask Mr. Wandesforde if he'd mind? Please, please say yes!"
Denis was wishing her at Jericho. He delighted in a battle, but he had no armor against coaxing. He did not in the least want to teach Miss O'Connor, or any one else, to fly. He had a full winter's work before him on the seaplane, and he hated (like Lettice) to be dragged out of his rut. Finally, Dorothea was a woman; and women are an endless bother. Seeing a chance of evading her, he jumped at it.
"Well, I'll ask Wandesforde if you like," he conceded.
Dorothea took her hands off his arm with a nod of satisfaction. "I thought I'd get you to do it," she said. "I always know what I want and I generally get it. It's only a question of wanting it hard enough. I'll go now, and leave you in peace. You'll write to him at once, won't you?"
Oh yes, Denis would write at once. He was already concocting the letter as he locked up the sheds. "I've had a nuisance of a woman here pretending she wants to order a machine on condition that one of us teaches her to fly. Quite young, and I should say quite irresponsible. I told her, of course, that we didn't run a school, but I wouldn't absolutely refuse without consulting you."
He had got as far as this when Dorothea broke in. She was looking rather solemn.
"I forgot to say one thing. Do you mind, if you're writing to Mr. Gardiner, not telling him anything about me? Or Lettice either," she added.
"Certainly, if you wish it," said Denis after a moment.
"I do wish it."
They walked on in silence. At the steps Dorothea paused for a last word.