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“He thinks you’re the greatest man in the world,” whispered Diana. “Pretend you’re wonderful.”

There was an embarrassed introduction.

“Done any flying lately?” asked Breck immediately.

“Not for some years,” admitted Charley.

“I was too young for the war myself,” said Breck regretfully, “but I’m going to try for a pilot’s license this summer. It’s the only thing, isn’t it—flying I mean.”

“Why, I suppose so,” said Charley somewhat puzzled. “I hear you’re having a dance tonight.”

Breck waved his hand carelessly.

“Oh, just a lot of people from around here. I should think anything like that’d bore you to death—after all you’ve seen.”

Charley turned helplessly to Diana.

“Come on,” she said, laughing, “we’ll go inside.”

Mrs. Dickey met them in the hall and subjected Charley to a polite but somewhat breathless scrutiny. The whole household seemed to treat him with unusual respect, and the subject had a tendency to drift immediately to the war.

“What are you doing now?” asked Mr. Dickey. “Going into your father’s business?”