The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1916-10-06

! It was colonel DesEnn 6 great forced
march south-one hundred and fifty
kilometers in three days. Many Of Us
died on the road
She laughed suddenly. She had the
odd feeling that there was n third per-
son in the roonl-a black faceIess
shadow that had laughed with her She
had TO make great effort TO regain
her composurc.
"Yes--and them"
"Afterward they allowed me to go
back and fetch his body did not
know his real name, but he had given
me the locket and It occurred to me
that If ever his people knew they
would be glad that he had not been
left out there-alone. He lies In the
Legion's cemetery-Pirilip Grey, No
3112."
"Yes-1 emember-thank you"
She did not see him go. She dressed
quickly and went out into the court
yard. A voice called her by name
with monotonous persistency. but she
didn't hear ii. There was a woman
with flowers to sell standing hesitantly
in the passage. but she did not see her
She had grown deaf and blind to the
present. She was looking back along
the road she had come, and she saw
the fate she had invoked stalking T
visible beside her.
Sylvia. SYLVIA
The Hower-girl still stood IN the
shaiowy passage. Imperturbably. with
inscruta bic eyes. she watched Sylvia
Arnaud's figure stand out for a mo-
ment against the sunlit avenue and
disappear
''Sylvia"'
"Philip Grey. No. 3112. Legion
Etrangere."
Sylvia knelt, with clasped hands. and
gazed at the roughly-cut letters.
Around her and above her a sea Of
crosses lifted UP their gaunt black
arms-hundreds upon hundreds, in the
voiceless identical supplication Of for
gotten things. She prayed softly. She
did not cry. She felt herself surround
ed with peace that was above tears.
Little by little the food was flowing
back on its old course. She was think
ing what she should say to Destinn
when he came to claim her She would
rise up and point to this piteous I'M
tended mound. This lies between
u.s." she would say to him. She would
not curse him. In eXpiation she
would claim Richard Farquhar's life.
She would so back TO ber husband: she
would take up the broken threads and
weave them to the perfect pattern. She
would carry with her the memory Of
that brief glimpse of her own soul. Of
her own love The dead are not in
vain-it was beautiful thought
. Steps sounded on the gravel path
way. She looked. up. but it was not
Destinn who came toward her. 1t was
the f1ower-seller. her basket crowded
with fresh blossoms.
Roses, madame? Roses to offer to
the dear dead?"
"Ah, yes. thank you. Give me all
that you have"
She covered the low mound with gor
geous red and gold. The beauty of 1t
of this chance-lifted her grief on
soft wings to a gentle, almost happy
resignation. She said. smilingly. Il
shall come every day. and every day
you must bring me all your flowers"
She wondered what it was-what
had come over bcr Something had
happened There had been a sharp.
Insignificant little pain between her
shoulders--a mere nothing. She caught
her breath: # hurt her. and she turned
slowly. her eyes wide open with a
childish amazement
What has happened?'
The woman opposite her said moth
ing. Her face, through the rising mist,
was blank, unreadable Sylvia put her
fingers to her lips-shs did not know
why she had done so; she saw now
that there was blood on her fingers
She remembered that she had kissed
one of the roses. Perhaps if had bled
She tried TO turn back again. Her
limbs were curiously heavy-almost
leaden. Then she dropped, face down
ward, amid the scattered roses