I've wanted to meet you awfully. The oldsters are always holding up your
glorious exploits to us newcomers. Withers never gets tired telling
about that fight of yours with the four enemy planes. And besides," he
rushed on eagerly, "I'm glad to have a chance to tell Chev's
brother--Captain Sherwood's brother, I mean--what I think of him. Only
as a matter of fact, I can't," he broke off with a laugh. "I can't put
it exactly into words, but I tell you I'd follow that man straight into
hell and out the other side--or go there alone if he told me to. He is
the finest chap that ever flew."

And then he felt as if a cold douche had been flung in his face, for
after a moment's pause, the other returned, "That's awfully good of
you," in a voice so distant and formal that the Virginian could have
kicked himself. What an ass he was to be so darned enthusiastic with an
Englishman! He supposed it was bad form to show any pleasure over praise
of a member of your family. Lord, if Chev got the V.C., he reckoned it
would be awful to speak of it. Still, you would have thought Gerald
might have stood for a little praise of him. But then, glancing sideways
at his companion, he surprised on his face a look so strange and
suffering that it came to him almost violently what it must be never to
fly again; to be on the threshold of life, with endless days of
blackness ahead. Good God! How cruel he had been to flaunt Chev in his
face! In remorseful and hasty reparation he stumbled on. "But the old
fellows are always having great discussions as to which was the
best--you or your brother. Withers always maintains you were."

"Withers lies, then!" the other retorted. "I never touched Chev--never
came within a mile of him, and never could have."

They reached the dinner-table with that, and young Cary found himself