and stupid. To compare a smashed machine with a stillborn child. Talking as if his passion for speed and more speed could be compared with the urge to bear a child. What nonsense l He spoke like a child himself. Why couldn't he understand what it meant to her. ..?
He was going on now. Something about her creating with her body and he with his mind. That neither of them should be permitted to ban the other's right to creation. Well, she had never said that he should not create rocket planes only that he should not fly them. It was not fair . . . It was his child that she was going to bear. His child that was making her feel so old and ill...
'What are you going to do with this new rocket?' she asked at last.
'Have a shot at the Keuntz Prize,' he said, shortly.
Mary sat up suddenly. Her eyes widened in a horrified stare.
'Oh, Dale, no' Her voice trailed away as she fell forward in a faint.
Chapter III. REPERCUSSIONS.
----
TUESDAY'S evening papers made considerable play with Dale's announcement, but a citizenry hardened through the years to seeing the sensations of one day's end amended or ignored at the beginning of the next, received the news on Wednesday morning as a novelty. It was impossible to ignore the headlines which erupted from Fleet Street.
CURTANCE TO DARE DEATH FLIGHT shrieked the Daily Hail.
'CURTY' TO ATTEMPT KEUNTZ PRIZE roared the Daily Excess, and the Views Record followed up with
BRITISH AIRMAN TO CHALLENGE SPACE The Poster and the Telegram printed leaders upon British pluck and daring with references to Nelson, General Gordon and Malcolm Campbell. (The Poster also revealed that Dale had once ridden to hounds.)
The Daily Socialist, after a front page eulogy very similar to that in the Hail, wondered, in the course of a short article in a less exposed part of the paper, whether the cost of such a venture might not be more profitably devoted to the social services. The Daily Artisan told the story under the somewhat biased heading: 'Millionaire out for Another Million.'
The Thunderer referred in a brief paragraph to 'this interesting project'. At nine o'clock in the morning the Evening Banner brought out special contents bills:
AIRMAN'S PLANS
To which the Stellar replied: CAN HE DO IT?
At ten o'clock the editor's telephone in the Daily Hail offices buzzed again. A voice informed him that Mrs. Dale Curtance wished to see him on urgent business.
'All right,' he said. 'Shoot her up.'
At ten twenty he began to hold a long and complicated telephone conversation with Lord Dithernear, the proprietor of the Concentrated Press. At approximately ten forty he shook hands with Mrs. Curtance and returned to his desk with a revised policy.
At eleven o'clock, Mr. Fuller, on behalf of Mr. Curtance, told an agency that he was in need of half a dozen competent secretaries.
At twelve o'clock one Bill Higgins, workman, employed upon the construction of the Charing Cross Bridge, knocked off for lunch. As he fed his body upon meat pie and draughts of cold tea he regaled his mind with the world's news as rendered by the Excess. Working gradually through the paper, he arrived in time at the front page. There he was impressed by a large photograph of Dale Curtance skilfully taken from a low viewpoint to enhance the heroic effect. His eyes wandered up to the headline whereat he frowned and nudged his neighbour.
'What is this 'ere Keuntz Prize. Alf?' he demanded.
'Coo!' remarked Alf, spitting neatly into the Thames below. 'You never 'eard of the Keuntz Prize? Coo!'
'No, I 'aven't,' Bill told him. He was a patient man.
Alf explained, kindly. 'Well, this bloke, Keuntz, was an American. 'E 'ad the first fact'ry for rocket planes in Chicago, it was, and 'e got to be a millionaire in next to no time. But it wasn't enough for 'im that 'is blasted rocket planes was banging and roarin' all over the world; 'e didn't see why they couldn't get right away from the world.'
'Whadjer mean? The Moon?' Bill inquired.
'Yus,
He was going on now. Something about her creating with her body and he with his mind. That neither of them should be permitted to ban the other's right to creation. Well, she had never said that he should not create rocket planes only that he should not fly them. It was not fair . . . It was his child that she was going to bear. His child that was making her feel so old and ill...
'What are you going to do with this new rocket?' she asked at last.
'Have a shot at the Keuntz Prize,' he said, shortly.
Mary sat up suddenly. Her eyes widened in a horrified stare.
'Oh, Dale, no' Her voice trailed away as she fell forward in a faint.
Chapter III. REPERCUSSIONS.
----
TUESDAY'S evening papers made considerable play with Dale's announcement, but a citizenry hardened through the years to seeing the sensations of one day's end amended or ignored at the beginning of the next, received the news on Wednesday morning as a novelty. It was impossible to ignore the headlines which erupted from Fleet Street.
CURTANCE TO DARE DEATH FLIGHT shrieked the Daily Hail.
'CURTY' TO ATTEMPT KEUNTZ PRIZE roared the Daily Excess, and the Views Record followed up with
BRITISH AIRMAN TO CHALLENGE SPACE The Poster and the Telegram printed leaders upon British pluck and daring with references to Nelson, General Gordon and Malcolm Campbell. (The Poster also revealed that Dale had once ridden to hounds.)
The Daily Socialist, after a front page eulogy very similar to that in the Hail, wondered, in the course of a short article in a less exposed part of the paper, whether the cost of such a venture might not be more profitably devoted to the social services. The Daily Artisan told the story under the somewhat biased heading: 'Millionaire out for Another Million.'
The Thunderer referred in a brief paragraph to 'this interesting project'. At nine o'clock in the morning the Evening Banner brought out special contents bills:
AIRMAN'S PLANS
To which the Stellar replied: CAN HE DO IT?
At ten o'clock the editor's telephone in the Daily Hail offices buzzed again. A voice informed him that Mrs. Dale Curtance wished to see him on urgent business.
'All right,' he said. 'Shoot her up.'
At ten twenty he began to hold a long and complicated telephone conversation with Lord Dithernear, the proprietor of the Concentrated Press. At approximately ten forty he shook hands with Mrs. Curtance and returned to his desk with a revised policy.
At eleven o'clock, Mr. Fuller, on behalf of Mr. Curtance, told an agency that he was in need of half a dozen competent secretaries.
At twelve o'clock one Bill Higgins, workman, employed upon the construction of the Charing Cross Bridge, knocked off for lunch. As he fed his body upon meat pie and draughts of cold tea he regaled his mind with the world's news as rendered by the Excess. Working gradually through the paper, he arrived in time at the front page. There he was impressed by a large photograph of Dale Curtance skilfully taken from a low viewpoint to enhance the heroic effect. His eyes wandered up to the headline whereat he frowned and nudged his neighbour.
'What is this 'ere Keuntz Prize. Alf?' he demanded.
'Coo!' remarked Alf, spitting neatly into the Thames below. 'You never 'eard of the Keuntz Prize? Coo!'
'No, I 'aven't,' Bill told him. He was a patient man.
Alf explained, kindly. 'Well, this bloke, Keuntz, was an American. 'E 'ad the first fact'ry for rocket planes in Chicago, it was, and 'e got to be a millionaire in next to no time. But it wasn't enough for 'im that 'is blasted rocket planes was banging and roarin' all over the world; 'e didn't see why they couldn't get right away from the world.'
'Whadjer mean? The Moon?' Bill inquired.
'Yus,
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