“Light’s not quite so good,” he said. He was still staring at her unbelievingly. “Now break down and tell me everything,” he said, “or I’ll forget my chivalric background and spank the daylights out of you, uniform or not.” The girl grinned mischievously and pirouetted on slim ankles.
“Isn’t it stunning,” she said breathlessly. She stopped and smoothed the trim, pencil-slim skirt with proud hands. “I wouldn’t trade it for a genuine Schiaparelli,” she said with sudden seriousness.
“I can imagine,” Tom Diggles said with just a touch of irony. “You girls all love uniforms.”
“That’s not fair, Tom,” Ann said. “You should realize that we are proud of what our uniforms symbolize and that’s all. But I see you haven’t changed since New York. You still think girls in uniform are just romantic exhibitionists, don’t you?”
Tom Diggles shrugged and said, “It doesn’t make much difference what I think. But it isn’t girls in uniform I mind. It’s just that most of them are so light-headed and incompetent that it drives you crazy.”
“Oh, you’re impossible,” Ann said, turning away from him with an angry whirl of her skirts. “You’ve got a medieval attitude about women that will never change. You think we should be locked away in cloisters and spend our time doing lace work, and let the great big strong men run the world and make all the decisions.”
“That’s not what I think at all,” Tom said heatedly. “Like every woman, you twist and distort everything I say until the original thought is unrecognizable.
You bring two things to every argument, a closed mind and an open mouth. There are a thousand important things for the woman of today to do, but running around in uniforms, getting in the way of vital work, is not one of them.”
“Well regardless of what you think,” Ann said coolly, “I have been assigned to an aircraft maintenance corps, and my first official duty in London is to bring you these orders from Colonel Langley, of the First Bomber Command.”
She drew a sheaf of sealed papers from a leather pouch at her waist and handed them to the young man.
“And I hope they’re sending you to Iceland,” she said bitterly. “I understand the Eskimo women don’t wear uniforms and do nothing more dramatic than chew whale blubber all day. You’ll love it there.”
The young man glanced at the unopened orders and then looked up at the girl, and there was an unwilling smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I see you still adore me,” he grinned. He put a hand under her chin and tilted her head up slightly.
“I’m sorry for acting like a boor,” he said quietly, and he was no longer smiling. “My reception of a fellow American in London wasn’t very warm, was it?”
“No,” the girl said, “it wasn’t. You did everything but throw me down the steps.”
“Let’s not fight any more,” the young man said. “There’s enough fighting going on in the world today without our making every chance meeting another all-out battle.” He looked out the window and his eyes were serious as he watched a crew of men filling in a huge bomb crater in the middle of the street. The sun was strong and clean and the air was touched with the first breath of spring, but still the signs of war and death were visible on London’s face.
“The Nazis have brought a taste of Hell to the world,” he said quietly, “and things will never be right again until the last one is exterminated. But, in the meantime,” he shrugged and turned away from the window, “let’s put an armistice to our private little war, shall we?”
“Of course,” the girl said gently. The young man smiled at her and then opened his orders. He read them quickly and when he finished he shook his head disgustedly.
“What’s the matter?” the girl asked. She grinned slightly. “Iceland?”
“Nope,” the young man said. “Just a notice that I’m to be engaged in aerial reconnaissance for the next few months.” He folded the orders and shoved them into his pocket with a bitter gesture. “I’ve been begging to be assigned to an active bomber command for six months, and this is what I get.”
“You’re luckier than most,” Ann said. “You’ve seen quite a bit of excitement already. Think of the poor boys who haven’t had any fun at all.”
The young man looked at her and his lips tightened ominously.
“My dear,” he said gently, “you and I just signed a peace pact, and I am most anxious to keep it. But if you don’t want hostilities renewed, please stop referring to the fun and excitement of aerial duty over Europe. I can assure you there is no fun connected with the work. It’s hard and tough, and half the time your heart’s in your mouth, which isn’t a very pleasant sensation.”
“But you are all anxious to be assigned to that kind of work,” Ann protested.
“We want to be in a spot where we make the Nazis bleed and burn,” the young man said quietly. “All of us have memories of comrades shot down, friends killed in bombing raids, and we’re out to settle that score. Not because it’s fun, but because it has to be done, and the sooner it’s done, the sooner this world will return to something like normalcy. And,” he added with something of his old grin, “the sooner we can get our women out of uniforms and back in front of stoves where they belong.”
“Let’s not start all that again,” Ann said. “And anyway, a lot of women I know don’t belong in front of stoves. If you ever tasted my biscuits you’d know what I mean.”
“I guess you’re right,” Tom said, with a grin. “Okay, cease firing. Anyway,” he sighed, “maybe I’ll get another crack at my kind of action when I finish this assignment.”
“Everything’s important, you know,” Ann said. “After all, where would the bombers be without aerial reconnaissance?”
“You’re right,” Tom said. “There’s no point in griping. And I’ve been laid up here so long now that I should take anything and be thankful.”
“How long have you been on the sick list?” Ann asked.
“Almost two months,” Tom said. “I got my final okay from the medicos last week, so I expected my orders along pretty soon. But,” he smiled, “I didn’t expect such a charming courier.”
“Well,” Ann said, “this really wasn’t my job. I’m attached to aircraft maintenance, but I heard the colonel giving these orders to the regular courier, so I just took over the job.”
“I’m glad you did,” Tom said. “This is just like old times, isn’t it?” He glanced over his shoulder at his uncompleted painting. “I would have gone crazy if I hadn’t these paintings to work on. None of them are particularly good but they keep me occupied. This one here,” he said pointing to the easel on which the painting of the roses was spread, “has got me stumped.”
He took the girl by the arm and led her to the easel.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked. “Well for one thing it isn’t finished,” Tom smiled. “But it seems to change during the night. I work as long as there’s light, but the next morning there seems to be something—” He shook his head and laughed. “I guess I am losing my mind.”
Tink nudged Jing.
“I told you last night you’d better stop dabbling with this painting.”
“I didn’t do much,” Jing said. “I just changed the colors a bit. Anyway,” she added defensively, “I know more about flowers than any old painter.” Nastee was staring gloomily at the young man and now he said jeeringly, “Isn’t that a touching sight?”
Tink looked and saw that he had slipped his arm about the girl’s slim waist and she had leaned her dark head against his shoulder.
“I think that’s wonderful,” Jing said softly.