“Nope. Not interested. I’m in for the duration.”

“Good girl.” He took her bag. “We’ll find you a cool, dark room to sleep in and call you in time for dinner. How’s that?”

“Nothing could be sweeter.”

She was awake and dressed for dinner before he called her and, in spite of the ordeals of the day, felt quite refreshed and ready for anything.

“Here’s a party dress I managed to pick up for you,” her father said, holding out a creation of thin, dark blue trimmed with some strange Syrian lace. “Bought it from a Syrian peddler. It’s the real McCoy.”

“Oh! Dad! It’s lovely! But for just one night! It must have cost a fortune!”

“Not so great a fortune,” was his smiling reply. “Besides, in times like these, when we live so fast, one night of perfect happiness can be treasured for days on end.”

“One night of happiness,” she repeated softly. “That sounds wonderful!”

“I’m hoping it may be wonderful. The dance is to be held at the Officers’ Club, quite a splendid place. It’s really a British affair, but we’re all in on it, just as we are in the big fight. Once a week officers motor from long distances and bring the ladies. The Colonel’s lady,” he laughed. “I tried to get your partner Sparky in on the dance,” he added. “He turned me down, said he needed the time for getting the plane in shape, but he did promise to have dinner with us.”

“Dad, he’s wonderful, Sparky is,” Mary enthused. “The only trouble with him is,” a wistful note stole into her voice, “he’s just a machine, like those engines he watches so carefully.”

“You’re lucky to have a partner like that. There’s only one in a hundred like him. You could fly all the way around the world with him.”

“Looks as if we might do just that.”

“Your destination is China?”

“Yes.”

“What route do you take on your return to America?”

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