“No, indeed. Waltz Time on a very good floor and with an orchestra that lifts its hat to none.”

“Oh!” she breathed, “That will be too much.”

“Just the change you need,” her father encouraged. “You can do a man’s work, but no woman can be a man all the time.”

“All right, then, it’s a date.” She put out a hand. “Father and I will be there.”

Once again the Captain saluted, then, turning about, he marched away.

After taking her overnight bag from the plane, Mary climbed into a big car beside her father and went rolling away.

“This is like old times,” she sighed.

“I wish you were staying a week.” He drew a long breath. “That, of course, is out. That big flight of four-motored bombers went through here yesterday.”

“Our flight.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Thirty-eight planes. And they were burning up the air. Looks as if something big were in the making over the air of China.”

“Or Tokio.”

“That’s what everyone is hoping, but no one really knows.”

“Did you see our flight leader?” she asked.

“Yes, indeed. They took on gas here. He was very much concerned about your plane, and—” his voice dropped, “about your cargo. Made me promise you fighter protection across the Arabian Desert.”

“Fighter protection. Hmm—we could have used some today.”

“You’ll have the very best tomorrow. Captain Ramsey is going as fighter flight commander. He’ll have three men with him.”

“Oh! That will be wonderful,” she enthused. “Even if we don’t run into trouble.”

“Well, here we are. This is where I live.” He brought the car to a stop before a beautiful little chateau.

“Some class!” she exclaimed. “How about my staying on as your cook?”

“The cooking is taken care of. I’ll give you a job as hostess after your journey’s end.”

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