“But—darling—but what has happened?” I managed to ask, looking up into those dear eyes of hers utterly amazed.
“May I tell him, nurse?” she inquired, turning to the buxom woman beside her.
The nurse nodded assent, whereupon she said:
“Well—you’ve had a nasty spill! One of your wings suddenly buckled—and you fell. It’s a perfect miracle that you were not killed. I saw the accident just as I was going up in a spiral, and came down again as fast as ever I could. When I reached you, I found you pinned beneath the engine, and everybody believed you to be stone-dead. But, happily, they got you out—and brought you here.”
“What is this place?” I asked, gazing around in wonderment. “Where am I?”
“The Hendon Cottage Hospital,” was her reply.
“How long have I been here?”
“Four days. The papers have had a lot about your accident.”
“The papers make a lot of ado about nothing,” I replied, smiling. “To them, every airman who happens to have a nose-dive is a hero. But how did it happen?”
“Nobody knows. You seemed to be ascending all right, when suddenly I saw your right-hand plane collapse, and you came down plumb,” she said. “As you may imagine, darling, I rushed back, fearing the worst, and through these four awful days I have dreaded that you might never speak to me again.”