And Pete, because he was Pete, said nothing at all. But Isabelle had not heard the last of him. Far from that. Not that she wished to hear the last of him. Far from that too.
CHAPTER XV
An Enemy at Her Window
For Gale, that day passed quietly, but the night offered a thrill, sudden joy, and grave misgivings.
Three times during the day her long electric radar fingers reached out to touch metal floating in the sky. Three times, with quickening pulse, she followed these a hundred, two hundred miles away, but each time they moved in a leisurely manner over the distant landscape.
“Just some enemy scout planes watching over their own troop concentrations,” she said to Jan. “No need to report them. They’re not headed this way.”
Shortly after nightfall, very reluctantly she yielded her post to a smiling young sergeant who was to take over for the night.
“Nice quiet day.” He smiled again as he looked over her report.
“Quiet, but not nice,” was her quick response.
“Oh, you crave action!” He laughed. “You’ll get that soon enough, or I miss my guess. Big doings just ahead.”
“Here’s hoping,” was Gale’s comment as she drew on her jacket. “Well, goodnight and good hunting. I’ll see you just before dawn.”