He wondered how she was, wished he might see her. He had not seen her since that moment when he had crawled to her as she lay so still and graceful, like a lovely boy asleep. That wakened other puzzling memories. The scene was so distinct--the little island, the reaches of the great marsh.... And yet the island and marsh had not existed. They had fallen on the mainland miles from any such island! The 'plane had been found against a tree miles away from it. There had been a man.... Potter was certain he remembered a man, and that the man's face had been familiar to him, but he could not recall the man's identity. The whole thing gave him a queer, gasping sensation. It was like thinking on eternity or on limitless space--something inconceivable. He compelled himself to take his mind away from it. Hildegarde von Essen was away, had been sent away by her enraged father as soon as she was able to travel. First she had gone to an aunt in the Adirondacks, was now with friends on the Maine coast. Potter's mother had told him this and had told him, too, of the raging call Herman von Essen had made on Fabius Waite, of the arrogant, brutal manner of the man toward the father of a boy whose death was declared inevitable. Fabius Waite had shown von Essen the door almost with violence. Yes, Potter wanted to see her.... That afternoon a servant brought him a letter. It was from her, the first of her handwriting he had ever seen. "DEAR POTTER," she began, addressing him by his given name, and he did not regard it as forward or provocative. It was merely due to the intimacy of their adventure with death, and natural to him. "I just found out you were able to read letters," she went on. "You can't imagine the pains people are at to keep news of you from me. It's as if I'd tried to elope with you and been caught. You knew father shipped me away. You don't know how glad I was to know that you are going to be all right again. Somehow I felt to blame." How abruptly, jerkily she wrote, changing from one subject to another without warning. It was like her, he thought. "I don't know when I shall be home, but I'm making myself as disagreeable as possible. I don't think they'll be able to stand me much longer. Then I'll come to see you. It was great fun while it lasted. I don't think I ever enjoyed a morning as much. There are things about it I don't understand--where we were found, for instance. _I_ thought we fell on an island. Didn't you? I'll write again when I can steal time. It's the least I can do, and we're pals. Aren't we? Get well as quickly as you can and we'll fly again. Is the 'plane fixed?" That was all. It stopped abruptly like that. She wanted to fly with him again. He chuckled. A little thing like falling out of the sky would not damp her enthusiasm, and fear seemed to have no place in her vocabulary. She was the most utterly daring girl he had ever met, and the most reckless of consequences. He perceived her similarity to himself.