Indeed, only a week before, she had flown by herself on a British-built Duperdussin with 100 horse-power Anzani engines from Brooklands across to France, descending a mile outside Abbeville. She had had lunch at the old Tete de Boeuf hotel in that town, and returned, landing safely at Hendon--a feat that no woman had ever before accomplished. Roseye Lethmere certainly possessed a character that was all her own. In her ordinary costume, as a London girl, she was inexpressibly dainty and extremely well dressed. Her curiously soft blue eyes, almost child-like in their purity of expression, were admired everywhere. Whenever, however, her picture appeared in the papers it was always in her flying costume. Most women, when they take up any outdoor exercise, be it hunting, golfing, strenuous tennis, or sport of any kind, usually acquire a certain indescribable hardness of feature, a sign by which, when they sit in the stalls of a theatre, the mere man at once knows them. But the beauty of Miss Rosie--as she was known at Hendon--in spite of her many exciting and perilous exploits in the air, was still soft and sweet, as it should be with any fresh healthy girl of twenty-two. The workmen started hammering again, fitting a new propeller to a machine in course of hurried completion for the front, so we all three went outside, where our own machines stood close together. Theed, my mechanic--who had been the governor's chauffeur before I took up flying--was busily testing my engine, and I could hear it missing a little. "Hulloa!" I cried, looking up at a big monoplane at that moment passing over us. "Why, Eastwell's up in Thorold's new bus!" "Yes," answered Roseye. "I passed quite close to him behind St Albans." The October morning was bright and sunny, with a blue, cloudless sky, just the morning for trial flights and stunts, and, in consequence, two pupils were out on the aerodrome with their instructors, preparing for their lesson. Roseye noticed this, and smiled across at me. She remembered, probably, how carefully I used to strap her into the seat, and how, more than once, she had gasped when we made a nose-dive, or volplaned for an undesired landing. Yet, even in those days, she had betrayed no fear in the air for, apparently, she reposed entire faith in my judgment and my capabilities at the joy-stick. We stood watching Eastwell as he banked first on one side, then on the other, until at last he made a graceful tour of the aerodrome and, swooping down suddenly, landed quite close to us. "Morning!" he cried cheerily, as he slowly unstrapped himself and climbed out of his seat. "Morning, Miss Lethmere," he added, saluting. "Well, how does my bus go? You had a little engine-trouble, hadn't you?" "Yes. I couldn't overtake Mr Munro," she replied, laughing. "Were you watching me?"