“Mary,” her father was saying, “I want you to meet the finest American flier in Egypt, Captain Burt Ramsey. Captain Ramsey, this is my daughter.”
“Charmed to meet her, sir,” was the quick response.
“I am pleased to meet you.” She gave the young man her best smile. And why not? He stood six-feet-three and looked every inch the soldier—dark hair, brown eyes, and that far-away look that fliers, especially over the desert, acquire.
“I am surprised at that introduction, Colonel Mason.” The Captain grinned broadly. “From all you’ve been telling me, this young lady must be the best flier in Egypt.”
“Oh, that’s purely a family matter, paternal pride,” said the Colonel.
“Captain Ramsey, This Is My Daughter, Mary.”
“Mary,” he said, “you must be starved, dead for sleep, and—”