Annabelle came running up a moment later, and took a cup of tea gratefully from the girl.  She was all out of breath, which, combined with her oil-smudged face and men’s coveralls, made her altogether far less ladylike than her prim sister.  She didn’t much care though.
“They’re loading the last of it now,” she said.  “That final passenger, a doctor or something, found a problem with the scales, and we should be light enough to get off the ground.”  Or at least, the ship will, she thought.  But someday, she’d be a pilot herself, and then she’d soar.

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