"In addition to what he did to you," Baker said, "he had a run-in with me.
He was insubordinate. Technically, I suppose, he's A.W.O.L.. He was ordered to report here for training. He decided, on his own, that he'd really rather not do that. I wrote a letter reporting what had transpired to Colonel Donovan."
Cynthia wondered why that bothered her, why she felt a surprising flash of anger. Baker was right. Jimmy Whittaker was an Air Corps officer. Officers do what they are told to do. And there was absolutely no excuse for his having kissed her the way he had, making a fool of her in front of the others.
"It would appear that the rules which apply to everyone else in the OSS, myself included, do not apply to Captain Whittaker."
"We don't know that's what's happened," she said.
"I felt sure that Colonel Donovan would understand my motives in making an official report of what happened," Baker said.
"That, rather than trying to get Whittaker in trouble, my concern was for the overall discipline of the organization.
I felt confident he would understand that it was not a personality clash between Captain Whittaker and myself, but rather an impersonal incident in which an agent willfully disobeyed his superior, with the result that the authority of the Director of Training was seriously undermined."
He waited for her to respond to that, and then, when she did not, went on, "Obviously, I was wrong. The only response to my letter was the telephone call just now. When Whittaker left here, after telling me that I was 'out of my mind' for having you in the school, he said that he was going to see the colonel.
I had the impression he meant both about his coming here and about you."
"He's known Colonel Donovan all his life," Cynthia said softly.
"And so have you," Baker said.
Cynthia looked at him.
"You want me to go to Colonel Donovan?" she asked.
"I thought you might consider it," Baker said.
"For what a fraternal organiation would call 'the good of the order."" "I'm going to see Colonel Donovan," Cynthia said.
"I intend to graduate from this school."
"I thought perhaps you could make it clear to him why this whole sequence of events is so distressing to me," Baker said.
Cynthia's mind 'was rushing ahead.
"If I'm to go to Washington in the morning," she said, "what do I do about turning in my equipment, settling things?"
"I'll take care of that for you myself," Baker said.
[TWO]
It had taken a long time for Cynthia to go to sleep, and she had gone to sleep angry.
And she had awakened still angry, and had grown angrier with the realization that there was not going to be time to pack and dress and eat breakfast, too, and that she was just going to have to miss breakfast.
There was a small silver lining to the black cloud, she thought. It would be the first time that Greg had seen her dressed up in anything fancier than a skirt and a sweater, or wearing any makeup except a faint touch of lipstick. She had a moment to enjoy that before thinking that it probably would be better if he didn't get to see her that way. It would fuel what she suspected he felt for her.
When she carried her luggage downstairs, he was in the entrance foyer. It was the first time she had seen him dressed up, too. He was in his pink-and green lieutenant's uniform, wearing his new silver parachutist's wings.
He smiled when he saw her.
"Baker said you would be going to Washington," he said.
"He didn't say why, and he didn't tell me how pretty you are in your civilian clothing."
"Good morning, Greg," she said.