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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"

"My decorations are genuine.
Numbers of women went through the great war as men. I am one of them,
that is all. Many were never discovered. Those who were, owed it to
wounds that brought them under observation. Had I not been wounded,
you would never have known. I could have exercised my skill as a
nurse, without the fact of my sex becoming apparent.
"That was what I was hoping for and counting on. I wanted to serve
this expedition both as a flyer and as a nurse. Fate willed otherwise.
A chance bullet intervened. You know the truth. But I feel confident,
already, that my secret is safe with you."
The light on her forehead, still a little ridged and reddened by the
pressure of the edge of the mask, showed it broad, high, intelligent.
Her eyes were deep and eager with a kind of burning determination. The
hand she had rested on the table clenched with the intensity of her
appeal:
"Let me stay! Let me serve you all! I ask no more of life than that!"
The Master, knotting together the loose threads of his emotion, came a
step nearer.
"Your name, madam!" he demanded.
"I cannot tell you. I am Captain Alfred Alden to you, still. Just
that.


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