[Ginger.]

Cecil Lewis was a close friend of Rhys Davids. The account in 'Sagittarius Rising' of them both cavorting through cloud canyons in their SEs, and Lewis's words on hearing of the death of his friend, still bring a lump to the throat of this Englishman.

"So Arthur had gone too. We had been great friends, not obvious inseparables, but joined securely by a deeper tie of understanding and being understood. Sometimes returning from a patrol we would break off and chase each other round about the clouds, zooming their summits, plunging down their white precipitous flanks, darting like fishes through their shadowy crevasses and their secret caves: such pleasure lay in this that never did we seem more intimate that when we traced five-mile hyperbolas across the evening sky. And then to land, grin at each other, stroll into the mess arm-in-arm, still mentally aloft, away up there, remembering the clouds: find me more true perfection."