He discovered that he was
telling Ruth this fact, in an imaginary conversation; was commenting
for her on dawn-sky and the plains before him and his alienation from
exploits in which she could not share.

The monoplane landed with a clean volplane. The aviator and his
mechanicians were wheeling it toward the hangar. They glanced at him
uninterestedly. Carl understood that, to them, he was a Typical
Bystander, here where he had once starred.

The aviator stared again, let go the machine, walked over, exclaiming:
"Say, aren't you Hawk Ericson? This is an honor. I heard you were
somewhere in New York. Just missed you at the Aero Club one night.
Wanted to ask you about the Bagby hydro. Won't you come in and have
some coffee and sinkers with us? Proud to have you. My name 's Berry."

"Thanks. Be glad to."

While the youngsters were admiring him, hearing of the giants of
earlier days, while they were drinking inspiration from this veteran
of twenty-nine, they were in turn inspiring Carl by their faith in
him. He had been humble. They made him trust himself, not
egotistically, but with a feeling that he did matter, that it was
worth while to be in tune with life.

Yet all the while he knew that he wanted to be by himself, because he
could thus be with the spirit of Ruth. And he knew, subconsciously,
that he was going to hurry back to Mineola and telephone to her.

As he dog-trotted down the road, he noted the old Dutch houses for
her; picked out the spot where he had once had a canvas hangar, and
fancied himself telling her of those days. He did not remember that at
this hangar he had known Istra, Istra Nash, the artist, whose name he
scarce recalled. Istra was an incident; Ruth was the meaning of his
life.

And the solution of his problem came, all at once, when suddenly it
was given to him to understand what that problem was.

Ruth and he had to be up and away, immediately; go any place, do
anything, so long as they followed new trails, and followed them
together. He knew positively, after his lonely night, that he could
not be happy without her as comrade in the freedom he craved. And he
also knew that they had not done the one thing for which their
marriage existed. They were not just a man and a woman. They were a
man and a woman who had promised to find new horizons for each other.

However much he believed in the sanctity of love's children, Carl also
believed that merely to be married and breed casual child