CHAPTER EIGHT
DANGER IS MY DUTY
Since there were many WAVES stationed at this great air and marine base, they had taken over a very fine little hotel down by the sea.
“Nancy! This is gorgeous!” Sally had exclaimed on their arrival. “If it weren’t for the secret radio, I would be glad to stay here until the war is won.”
“It is wonderful,” Nancy replied thoughtfully. “Florida, the blue, blue sea, and these lovely quarters! It’s really hard to believe, but, you know, this isn’t the sort of thing I joined up for. I expected a truly hard life. The boys in the jungles of those South Sea islands and on the sandy deserts of Africa—they don’t have it easy, so why should we—?”
“That’s right,” was the quick response. “If all the people of America, especially those who have lived soft lives—oh, I don’t mean who don’t work—but those who have had all they want, always, always slept in a soft bed, and always gone for a long ride in the old bus on a Sunday afternoon, could really be dragged out of it all and have it good and tough for a while, wouldn’t it be grand?
“But then,” Sally added in a quieter voice, “we might as well make the best of all this beauty and comfort, for something tells me that it won’t last too long.”
After her first real talk with Major Storm, Sally returned to her hotel, ate her dinner, then, returning to her room, dragged out her secret radio.
She had barely started thumbing its dials, when a phone call announced a caller.
Hurrying down to the hotel lobby, she barely refrained from throwing herself into the arms of this guest.
“Danny!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”