Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1916-03-30
JUST ONE MINUTE LATE
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BY lzoLA FORESTER.


He had even half believed that very
thing would serve to strengthen her,
that he had started before she had
sent for him. He had been four months
in the prison camps before the ex-
change had been brought about. Prob
ably she had believed he was dead.
Nearly all the poor devils in his crowd
had died sooner or later. And he had
come out of it with a smashed arm
that let him off for awhile from the
game over yonder.
He wondered how Barbara had
found out he was sailing on the Tavo-
mia. He had only told Lester. Yet the
message had been clear and potent;
Come before it is too late Bah"
His arm panied him constantly, and
through.the long nights he lay in his
berth trying to visualize Bab's face
and find comfort from it. She had been
such a tender little woman, after all
her own personal trouble. The only
kind thing Kenneth had ever done for
her was to die. That had been four
years ago, and he and Lester had
looked after her interests since then.
They had been partners before the
war, and he was her brother.
The war had been a relief. At first
they had gone over to serve in the Bel
gian commission. Lester had pulled
himself together and got his grip back
driving an ambulance there, and he
himself had slipped into the Foreign
Legion.
When the train pulled into the ex-
press station at Seventy-second street
he almost stumbled from the car.
Gee. but everything looked good after
those months in Belgium. He crossed
the street and went toward her home in
the big apartment building on Central
Park West. His fingers were a bit I'M
steady as he found the bell and pressed
it. The door clicked and he went up
stairs. And on his way a man passed
him going down.
Gregory noticed him vaguely. He
was short and stocky and looked pros
porous. Even to a casual observer he
! appeared happy. And as he started
past him the man stopped short, took
another look at him and called: Hello,
there, Greg"
1t was Stephens, his lawyer, good
old Steve who had stood back of him
over and over again, about the only
friend he had had left after the bust
ness had gone to the merry puppy
dogs. Yet all he could do was grip his
hand and ask if Bah were still alive.
still alive? What do you mean, old
man? OF course, she's alive, but you're
one minute too late. She's done it,"
Done what? Married again."
Lord, no. Go upstairs and find out.
God bless you both. Wonderful wom-
an, Greg. See you later"
Gregory climbed the last flight and
she opened the door herself. Not a
word did she speak, only held out her
arms to him, and somehow he found
that it was his head which lay on her
| shoulder and he was holding her to
him in dumb Joy
81 met Stephens. He said | was too
late" he said finally when they were
in her library.
You are. / signed the papers my
self Listen and don't scold me. Les
ter wrote when you got back to Eng
land and kept me posted, but he said
he thought you'd go back to France if
your arm was well enough, and
think you've done quite enough for
them already. / need little of you,
you know. So l sent the wireless to
head you off, and, anyway, we needed
! you terribly. You see, | found out
after you had been captured all about
| Testers trouble and why my balance
was safe and yours had gone with
| him. 1t had been splendid of you to
| back him in all his queer ideas any
way, so | went out one day to Jersey
and looked over the old factory just
as you had left it. You know studied
chemistry with Lester before | was
married and it all interested me so.
So just took out part of my money
and started in a small way. | told
! Mr.. Stephens what / wanted to do,
and he helped me, but l said it was
your money. Well, l won out, and
began making copper cylinders just as
you had intended. So, Ill just paid
off the mortgage myself. Mr.. Stephens
has the check. l think I'm even with
you now. It's all over there ready for
| you to go back to-"
Gregory was holding her in his good
arm, close to him, his face pressed to
her hair. .-----. zee -.
"Oh, you women, you women who
are the restorers!" he said
| Copyright, 1915, by the Mcclure Newspa-
| nar