"I haven't heard from her for several months," replied Sahwah, "but I
suppose she's still in New York. She must be doing great things with her
music. She's given a concert already."

"It's queer about Veronica," continued Sahwah musingly. "Although she
wasn't with us so much I seem to miss her more and more as time goes on.
I often dream I hear her playing her violin." Sahwah's admiration for
Veronica had never waned, although Veronica had never had what Sahwah
described as a "real emotional case" on her.

"Veronica's an alien enemy now," said Gladys in an awed tone.

"Do you think she'll be _interred_?" asked Hinpoha anxiously.

Sahwah gave a little scream of laughter. "_In-terned,_ not _interred_,"
she corrected. "I hope Veronica isn't ready to be buried yet."

"Well, _interned_, then," answered Hinpoha, a little piqued at Sahwah's
raillery. "You don't need to call the attention of the whole car to the
fact that I made a little mistake. Did you see that officer over there
turn around and look when you laughed? He's looking yet, and he probably
heard what you said, and is laughing at me in his mind."

Sahwah involuntarily turned around and her eyes met those of the slim,
fair-haired youth in the uniform of a lieutenant of aviation, sitting
several seats beyond them on the other side of the car. For some
unaccountable reason she again felt suddenly shy and dropped her eyes,
while a little feeling of wonder stole over her at her own
embarrassment. Up until that moment, unexplained feelings had been
totally unknown in Sahwah's wholesome and vigorous young life. There had