The Press., 1922-12-28
dervlshes from Arabia in circus

stunt.
 Stan remembered all that and more. "Say, Bill, ever see that little blonde any more2 Looked like Madonna the one at our last billet? She used to dance with you all the time. Never seemed to see the rest of us. Alice somebody Lord, there was a regular girlw
 "Alice Mobry," answered Bill, all the light dying out of his deep brown eyes. II wrote to her until-until I was sure I was going to be real crip. Then just quit"
 You're no cripple" said Stan with a frown. "I don't even notice that lost lot of sleep wondering, grieving about you. Funny! I often thought about you and her. That was one TO- nance of the war, 1 told myself" Then seeing the strained look in his old pals face he quietly changed the sub ject. Meet me >here tonight at and have dinner with me. Later I'll go down to the boat with you if you are determined to sail for home in the morning. Nice trip back by way of Charleston Home! Gee, I'll bet these southern parents of yours have killed the fatted calf, all right"
 They've had long time to fatten 1t, haven't they?" laughed Bill Thanks, old man. See you at '"
 Dear old Stan! Bill looked aftel him affectiOnately. No use telling him that he had already been home three different times, only to have to travel back to Walter Reed hospital for little more work on that game leg. But this trip was the last. He was going home to stay. That morning he had caught a train from Washington to attend to a little business in New York before he took the boat for , Charleston, He looked up and down the street, humming with the busy life , of the metropolis. He had the after. noon before him.
 He would walk over to the avenue and get up on top of a bus and watch the human tide ebh and flow. It al- ways interested him. Then, he might catch glimpse of her again. She lived in New York He had wanted to telephone to her the first thing that 1 morning but, after four years, she was probably married, Anyway, she would never forgive him for not tell ing her why he had failed to answer l all those letters she had sent. Those | letters and his dampahe pride! His 1 mind must have been sick along with his body, otherwise he would have sent her some word. Too late now!
 He squared his broad shoulders, try ing as always to keep one from sag | ging when he limped. There was no traffic cop at that corner, but he de termined to move on and take his chance with the other pedestrians.
 A blue limousine was purring noise lessly down crowded Broadway. Pret- ty thing. Brand-new model, too. Then a cry arrested his attention. 'StOp !! 1 It's Bill! Oh, Bill ]"
 He looked after the car, dazed' a bit. The chauffeur had damned on the brakes. The door of the ear was opening. Alice MObry was running back to him.
 He limped back to the ear, helped her in, got in-beside her. But to have saved his life he could not think of g word to say, He just looked at her He had forgotten that a girl could be so pretty, Then his devouring eyes rested suddenly on her hands, little hands, glQyed in gray. They were trembling. She was clutching them together. His subcOnscious mind must have forced him to make the movement He certainly did not think about 1t. But he put his own over hers and held them close, Right there on Broadway, with all the world to see.
 "Alice, dear, it almost killed me not to write to you,sbut when found out that IT was going to be lame for life
 -limping along palnfully-did you care that muchT
 She had presence of mind then to order the chauffeur to drive home and the run to Park avenue was made silently.
 i "Was she married? He didn't care i He was going to tell her, tell her once more as he had whispered his love on starry April night over there in Madams I4lie's little flower gar.