The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-12-17

ability and possibilities for olym- pic entry, had offered to stand IaIl expenses. Dan must never
 know that this man was Sally's father and that Sally, herself, was
 behind all this.
 At last the day came when she
 was allowed to pay Dan a visit.
 She had looked forward to it so eagerly, so hopefully, that she was not prepared for the shock of her first glimpse of him. Could this be Dan, this thin, weak, white per son, head swathed in bandageS, gray
 eyes staring and enigmatical, one leg stretched straight and stiff be- fore him, in its cruel, cumbersome cast!"
 You mustn't stay too long or get him excited" the nurse cau- toned before she closed the door. Sally had an impulse to call her back. She was not sure she wanted to be left alone with Dan. Not sure she had the courage to face him.
 She had waited so long for this moment and now sae did not know what to do, what to say. There seemed only one thing, and so she said it as simply as quickly as possible.
 "Dan can you ever forgive me? I'm so dreadfully sorry So sorry that her heart was wrung with despair, that she could have knelt down beside him, giving way to an abandon of grief and remorSe.
 If only he would not look at her like that! Without any ex- precision in his grave eyes, any hope in his white foce. He lifted one hand, let it fall weakly onto the cover again. He made an at tempt at a smile, an attempt that brought tears to her eyes.
 His voice was little more than a whisper. That's okey," he said. T don't blame you. For the acci- dent."
 Sally knew that he meant it, for Dan was not one to say anything he did not mean. Yet, she knew that there were other things, unspoken, sharp barriers between them, that he could not forgive. Her deceit. The fact that she had laughed at him. The dare that had been the beginning of their odd friendship. He was too big, too fine, to blame her for what she had done to him physi- cally. But now he never would believe in her again.
 You're going to be all right again." Sally said. She wished her voice sounded more convinc- ing. Doctor Hartford" he was the Boston surgeon-"says you'll be as right as ever = in time."
 Dan nodded slowly. His express sion still blank. His grave eyes seemed to echo that "in time" What would he do until then, this boy who had been 50 swift, so sure on his feet?
 "You mustn't worry about any thing" Sally said. Oh, if only she could tell him that she would like to spend the rest of her life mak- ing this up to himl
 He did not attempt to answer that. It was as thought he felt there were no answer. After @ moment of silence he said in the same low, tone, And you are you okey, Sally Blair?"
 Sally nodded; her throat was 50 tight she was not sure she could trust herself to speak. Yes, she was all right. That was the worst of 1t. Gladly she would have ex- changed places with this boy, if only she could have.
 You you haven't forgiven me = for the other?" She could not go away, say goodby, without asking that. Her dark eyes pleaded with him to be merciful in his answer. For deceiving you. Dan. For being such a blind, stupid, little idiot"
 That doesn't matter now" Dan said. His look met hers, but then he turned away.
 Sally knew what he meant. He felt that their worlds were farther apart than ever.
 T meant - everything that I said. About liking you, .Dan." Sally's voice faltered. It was no use; nothing she could say could break down the barriers between them. I'm sorry I called you a coward"
 He raised his hand again, in an erasing gesture. He made another attempt to smile. Please" he mur- mured. Tt doesn't matter, really it doesn't" Then just for flash this boy, whose pride was so stubborn, whose courage was SO great, let her glimpse the bitterness in his heart Nothing matters great deal. You see, l don't believe I shall ever ski again."