Once
somebody called him a raw lad. The answer came with crushing rapidity:
"When you blunder, raw lads like myself pay for your mistakes."
It must be admitted that, like most people brought up with wealth, he
was apt to be unduly impatient. Delays or objections irritated him. He
wanted to force his will upon Time, which never admits compulsion, and
tried to over-ride obstacles. His peculiar fascination gradually won its
way even in workshops, and his appearance there was greeted with
acclamation, not only because the men were curious to see him, but
because they were in sympathy with him and had put his ideas to a
successful test. The workmen liked to see him sit in a half-finished
machine, and explain in his short, decisive style what he wanted and
what was sure to give superiority to French aviation. The men stopped
work, came round, and listened eagerly. This, too, was a triumph for
him. What he told them on such occasions he had probably whispered to
himself many times before when, on rainy days, he would sit in his
airplane under the hangar, and think and talk to himself, while
strangers wondered if he was not crazy.
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