It was not until three days later that she received word that she would be permitted to see him. His cot had been carried into a small room at the front of the building, and she entered it timidly, the nurse, with a smile and a glance at her watch, both of which were eloquent, withdrawing. He was propped up on pillows, and though pale from the loss of blood, greeted her with his old careless smile. She sank into the chair by the side of the bed and caught his hand to her lips. “O Cyril,” she murmured. “Cyril, I’m so glad. But I knew you wouldn’t die--you couldn’t after getting safely through everything else.” “Die! Well, hardly. I’m right as rain. Jolly close shootin’ that of Rizzio’s, though. Pity he had to go--that way.” She hid her face in her hands. “Don’t! Let’s forget him.” And then, “Have you suffered much?” “No. The bally thing burns a bit now and then--but the worst of it is, they won’t let a chap smoke.” She laughed and he caught her hand closer. “How did you do it, Doris? How did you?” he questioned. “I had to, Cyril,” she said. “It wasn’t anything--except knowing where to come down. That bothered me. I guessed at Ypres. The rest was luck.” “More than luck, old girl. Just courage and intelligence. I felt myself failin’, up there, but I saw you knew your way about and then I--I seemed to go to sleep. Silly of me, wasn’t it?” “Silly! You fainted, Cyril.” “Rotten time to faint.” “You might have died up there. Once I thought you had died. Oh, that dreadful moment! I wanted to go, too--with you. I was a little mad, I think. I wanted to take you in my arms and go with you--down--down. My hands even left the wheel. The Yellow Dove toppled--but I caught her.” “Poor child!” “After that I seemed to grow all cold with reason and skill. I forgot you. I looked beyond, over your poor head. I had to succeed, Cyril--that was all.” His hand pressed hers tenderly. “You’re the only girl in the world who could do it. I’m glad--proud----” He broke off. “My word, Doris! There’s no use tryin’ to tell you what I think of you. I’m no good at that sort of thing.” “I understand. You’re just--yourself. That’s enough for me.” “You were a trump up there in the Thorwald--to stay with poor old Udo, but I had to go. It was the only way. I never thought we’d make it.” “But we did.” “_You_ did. It was the Dove, Doris--the good old Dove. Isn’t she a ripper?” “I never had a fear--once she rose. How did you happen----” He laughed. “It was to be a surprise. I’d been workin’ on her for a year--tryin’ her out on the moors. Nobody knew--until the war came--and then I told Udo, who told von Stromberg. I tried a flight to Windenberg and made it comfortably. Awf’ly easy thing. I stayed at Windenberg in October, flyin’ over the English lines, droppin’ bombs.” “That was where you were----!” “But I never hit anythin’. Wouldn’t do, you know. Then when I came back I told the War Office. They sent me for the papers. You know the rest.”