Mrs. Westfield hesitated between a gasp and a smile.

"I don't doubt it. You are quite capable of anything--only your wings
will not be sent from Heaven--"

"No--from Paris. I'm going to have a Bleriot."

"Do you actually mean that you're going to--O Hermia! Not _fly_--!"
The girl nodded.

"I--I'm afraid I am, Auntie. It's the sporting thing.
You know I never could _bear_ having Reggie Armistead do anything I
couldn't. Every one will be doing it soon."

"I can't believe that you're in earnest."

"I am, awfully."

"But the danger! You must realize that!"

"I do--that's what attracts me." She got up and put her arms around
Mrs. Westfield's neck. "O Auntie, dear, don't bother. I'm absolutely
impossible anyway. I can't be happy doing the things that other girls
do, and you might as well let me have my own way--"

"But flying--"

"It's as simple as child's play. If you'd ever done it you'd wonder
how people would ever be content to motor or ride--"