“Plenty of it, too much. I was at Pearl Harbor, a flier. And I was in about all that came after in the next seven months. Then a smart Jap got me in the back.”
“Oh!” she breathed.
“It wasn’t so much. I was out of the hospital in a month. But my spine will never be the same, I was once a swimmer, something of a champion. That’s all over, too. But it doesn’t matter. What really hurts is that I can’t get back to help finish what my friends and I started over there.”
“And you don’t fly any more?” That seemed a terrible fate to Sally.
“Oh, yes,” he smiled. “I have a fast, little single-seater and sometimes I haunt the sky, chasing seagulls and wild ducks.”
“A single-seater sounds a bit selfish.”
“It’s not, really. You see, I don’t trust myself too much. There’s always the chance that—”
“Something might go wrong with you?”
“Yes. I’m not willing to take a chance with other people’s lives. But you were going to tell me about that radio.” He changed the subject abruptly.
“Yes, it’s the most remarkable invention!” Launching at once into her theme, she talked for an hour. From time to time he interrupted to ask a question. His pipe went out. Twice he tried to light it and failed. Then he gave it up.