A pair of 1,200-h.p. Wright Cyclonesrowling in a hangar; a glimpse of green fields through a hole in the overcast; 200m.p.h.; an odd pressure in your ears; a old jet of air in your face; a pretty hostess handing you hot chicken; a sleek transport drifting in to a landing, flaps extended like an old lady spreading her skirts as she sits down; a lean beacon fingering the dark. An airline is all these things, and it is a dollar-&-cents business. Last week the U. S. airline which once was shakier than most in...
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