The Waterbury Democrat., 1940-01-10
Mary Sees Gregg Again

easier to have you admitted to the hospital as my wife. Otherwise, it might be difhcult, especially since ! will be on the other side Of the Channel"
 Tongues of orange famed from the burning coal. A clock ttcked softly. Except for these tiny sounds, there was silence in the room.
 At length Mary reused herself. "What you said is true. l am des- perate. have no money. While I'm disfigured like this, I can't bear to face anyone who knew me be- fore :" Her voice faltered and he did not expect her to continue.
 It was as If she was speaking her thoughts aloud. But that doesn't mean haven't any pride" she went on after q pause. And that doesn't mean my dreams are over for always"
 He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and waited for her to con- tinue.
 "A chapel wedding, a bridal veil and orange blossoms, organ music and honeymoon, these are all part of what marriage has meant to me-"
 q understand" He spoke qulet- ly. Naturally my strange offer of marriage has given you jolt, coming as 1t did out of Q clear sky"
 T appreciate your offer, know you only spoke to help, as 0 friend But you'll have to give me time to think 1t over. When are you go- Ing to Francep"
 q don't know, Any day, now"
 Dr. Lenox stood up. He reached for his coat. DO think 1t over Consider 1t seriously. don't want you to do anything you might be sorry for. But on the other hand, If I do come back from the front, I'll give you your freedom when- ever you want it"
 When he had disappeared Into the night, Mary sat motionless by the graying embers, hands cupping her chin. Long after the fire had burned itself out she sat, unmind- full of the growing chill.
 Here was a way out. That very day had brought her to new low In her already hopeless existence But to marry Lenox would be un- fair to him. She still loved Vin- cent Gregg. Even though Dr, LenoX was aware Of that, and was willing to marry her on these terms, she could not allow him to make that sacrifice,
 How long she had been thinking these thoughts, she had no way to tell. But when the chimes of e hall clock announced midnight. she drew up with Q start. Perhaps by daylight she could think this thing out more clearly.
 The next day the problems Of the night before had solved themselves in no way, If she could only sec Vincent without him seeing herl If she could only be sure that he was longing us much for her as she was for him Then she could walt a life- time, if necessary, for their re- union, Hunger, poverty, nothing would matter.
 Hardly aware of what she did, Mary found herself walking in the direction of Vincent's lodgings.
 She walked along oxford street and turned into Charing Gross road to Trafalgar Square. She passed the narrow street with the restaurant where she and Vincent had dined on the night of that horrible air raid. She traced the few steps from the square and stopped in front of 1t, unmindful of the Jostle of people in the noon hour crowd. CoVetously she peered in, The restaurant was gay with luncheon guests.
 She retraced her steps to Char Ing Cross road and past the Na- tlonal Gallery, It's windows board- cd and sandbagged.
 She had forgotten she was Anna Winters. She had forgotten that she, Mary Carroll, was supposed to be dead, a victim of the sink Ing of the Moravia.
 It was as if the strange desire to see Vincent was driving her on, without any volition of her own. She had forgotten the twisted cheek, the shabby, ill-fitting clothes. Reflected in her rapt face was the expression of one who awaits Q miracle.
 Back in the square, she walked to the street where Vincent had had lodgings. She would go down the street, just for a sight of the roomy, gray stone house where he lived.
 Before 1t, courage ebbed. She turned back, to the protection of doorway of a tobacconist's shop. Perhaps Vincent had long since left this neighborhood. Perhaps he was not even in London.
 Something made her turn to the kindly old man in skull cap be- hind the tobacco counter. Before