“Lieutenant,” Norma asked suddenly in a low tone, “did you notice anything unusual about the two girls who went into your booth just ahead of me?”
“Why no—let me see,”—the lieutenant paused to consider. “One was rather short and chunky—of Italian stock. And the other—”
“Tall, strong—and, well—rather silent.”
“Yes. Now I recall her. No—nothing very unusual. Quite different in character, but capable, I’d say. They’ll fit in. Of course, they’re both of foreign extraction The tall girl’s parents were German-born. She’s an American, as we all are. She was raised by her uncle. Something unusual, did you say? Why did you ask that?” She fixed her dark eyes on Norma’s puzzled face.
“Nothing, I guess. No real reason at all. I—I’m sorry I asked. I wouldn’t hurt anyone—not for all the world.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, my dear.” The Lieutenant pressed her arm.
Lieutenant Warren seemed fairly bursting in her enthusiasm for the Interceptor Control. She told Norma more, much more, as they marched along. Then suddenly, as if waking from a trance, she stopped dead in her tracks to exclaim softly:
“Oh! What have I been telling you? I shouldn’t have breathed a word of that! It’s so hard not to talk about a thing that’s got a grip on your very soul. Promise me you won’t breathe a word of it!”
“I promise,” Norma said quietly. “I’m sure I know how important it is.”
“Do you know?” some sprite might have whispered. Soon enough the girl was to learn.