The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-03-28
. SERIAL STORY
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gloved fingers. The place glared with white light from the refiec- tors of the lamps. In gown, cap and mask, Alan stood beside the man, stretched out on the table. Farrell similarly dressed stood opposite, The odor of chloroform hung heavy in the air. A torch, perched rather precariously on shelf, swayed as a blast of wind shook the shack, and Eric rushed to steady it. Weber, at the pa- tient's head, looked up.
 'The patient is ready, doctor" he said. The scalpel in Alan's hand. Swift, yet sure. The click of artery clamps.
 Bleeding internally" Alan nut tered.
 Farrell's eyes, bright above the edge of his mask. Father Johnson bending, low, whispering, praying.
 Emily stared with sleepless eyes at the ceiling, lighted faintly by the fiickering gleam of the street. light, shining through the window. The rain on the roof beat an un- ceasing tattoo in her ears. If only she could stop thinking. If she could only tell Alan.
 But Alan was gone, out into the darkness of the river. He might never come back. Perhaps, by now, the launch was floating, up- side down, miles down stream. Alan in the cold water-Alan - t.le thought terrified her. She shut her eyes and tried to drive from her mind.
 Alan must come back to her he. must! So that she could tell him that she had been wrong, so terribly wrong. So that she could spend the rest of her life proving to him that she loved him - only him. How could she have imagined that anyone could ever take his place in her heart?
 Eric. Poor Eric. There was little left for him. The dam he tried SO hard to build was a broken, crushed mass of wreck age. Wreckage, too, were any hopes of romance he might have had. She would never marry Eric. She would never get divorce.
 Not if Alan left her alone every night, not if she did not see him for days. Just to know that he loved her, just to plan his meals, just to press her face against his rough coat - just awake at night and hear him slamming garage dors - she would be content.
 Farrell was right. It was her job to answer the telephone, to :. e interested in every patient, to find Alan, send him hurrying away from her, to be a doctors wife. Perhaps Alan would let her do more.
 What if Alan didn't want her? What if her threat of divorce, made so rashly, had killed his love. Fear clutched her. Alan couldn't Alan wouldn't. No Not Alan. He would love her al- ways. Forever and a day" he had said so often. And he had promised, as he stood beside her, tall and handsome - Until death do us part"
 He was different now, this Alan of hers. How different from the boy she had met-and loved at sight-so long ago. His laugh was still as clear and ringing, but not so boisterous. His eyes, once sparkling with merriment and mischievousness, were softer, calmer. He was serious more of the time now-but at intervals his reserve broke, especially when he leased her. And how delighted he could be when his teasing infuriated her then they laughed, and kissed and all the world was all right again.
 But Emily liked to have Alan serious. It reminded her always of that first night at the commence ment dance. She had met Alan only a few minutes before, danced with him but twice when he claimed her from another partner, guided her out of the ballroom out on the ter- race.
 "This sounds crazy" he had said, as they stood, looking out over the lights of the city. But you have to believe it-I love you, Emily"
 She had thought he was kidding her, handing out the usual line, and told him as much. Tt sounds like that, I know" he had an- swered, and his eyes and face took
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