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would never stand it, Mr. Ross.”
    The pilot’s heart sank. He might have known that it was too good a job to be true. He said quietly: “I see. His health’s pretty bad, is it?”
    The girl was silent for a minute. Then she said: “I can’t say that he’s in bad health. But when you’re nearly sixty it’s time to start to take care of yourself.”
    Ross became aware that he disliked this girl very much indeed. He asked directly: “Has he got a weak heart?”
    She hesitated. “No—I don’t think he’s actually got that. But at his age he can’t expect to do the things he used to do as a young man. There comes a time when one has to sitback, and leave the more strenuous work to younger men. You do understand, don’t you, Mr. Ross?”
    The pilot said nothing.
    The girl said: “I thought if I explained to you how matters stand, perhaps you could avoid encouraging him in this thing. I’d hate him to go to a lot of trouble and then be disappointed later on. With your experience of flying you can put it to him in the proper light, and he’ll be quite content to give it up.”
    The pilot still said nothing.
    The girl looked up at him doubtfully. “You see what I mean, don’t you, Mr. Ross? It’s just that you should avoid encouraging him in this thing.”
    There was a long silence. The girl could feel the antagonism of the pilot, and it puzzled and annoyed her. She did not understand why he should not have met her willingly in what seemed to her to be a very reasonable request. A word from him would have put the matter right.
    They walked the length of the garden in silence. At last the pilot smiled at her and said: “You put me in a very difficult position, Miss Alice.”
    The girl said: “Alix is the name, Mr. Ross. But perhaps Miss Lockwood would be better.”
    The pilot flushed hotly; whatever compromise he may have had in mind went with the winds. But outwardly he smiled again, and said:
    “Your father asked me last night if I could do the flight, if he decided to go. I told him I thought it could be done, and if he wanted me, I’d like to work for him.”
    She turned to him impulsively. “But, Mr. Ross, a man of my father’s age can’t possibly go flying off to Greenland in an aeroplane! Surely you see that?”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “I took a man of seventy-eight from the Mackenzie to Quebec, two years ago. And that was in winter, too.”
    The names meant nothing to her; the distance might havebeen from Holland Park to Kensington. She was irritated at his denseness, and she said:
    “I’m trying to get you to help me, Mr. Ross. My father’s much too old to go on such an expedition.”
    The pilot said shortly: “That seems to be your father’s business, not mine. I can’t go diving into that.”
    Her lips tightened, and she said: “I had hoped to get more help from you than this.”
    They walked on for a minute or two in silence. Presently he stopped, and turned to face her. “You must understand the way I’m fixed, Miss Lockwood,” he said. “I fly aeroplanes and seaplanes for a living. That’s what I do. At present I’m out of a job. Your father seems to want to offer me a job to do what I’m specially fitted for—that flying in the north. If I get the offer of that job, I’ll have to take it—if I don’t, that’s just too bad. But you can’t expect me to evade a good job when it’s offered to me.”
    She had never had to earn her living. In her outlook she was very far from the pilot. She stood looking up at him, the quick anger mounting in her. “I see what you mean, Mr. Ross,” she said evenly. “You’re going to do all you can to encourage my father to go on this trip, in order that you can make money out of him. It doesn’t mean a thing to you that he’s an old man, that his health won’t stand the sort of life that you and your sort can put up with. So long as you get your wages, that’s the only thing you care about.”
    He was as angry as she was. He