Behind us and below was the blue monoplane turning upside down as it went into a "loop." I could not now see the pilot; but an image of her, photographed in the split of a second when she had dived at me, developed in my mind. I saw her small, helmeted head, a hue of her hair on the pink of her cheek; goggles over her eyes; her grey gloved hands were on the controls.
She had arrested her descent, after having dived past me, by going into the "loop." Though it turned her upside down it was the quickest way to bring her plane about under me to follow me. Of course only a good pilot, with excellent nerves, could do it.
She flew below me, upside down, showing the blue undersurfaces of her wings as she followed me. I watched her; and had a moment for amazement. Against myself I argued that the pilot could not be the lovely girl who had spoken to us on the sea.
That blue monoplane, flying upside down, righted itself; it turned over, on the wing, and gave me good view of the pilot. I saw her slim shoulders, her slim arms, her grey gloved
