The Waterbury Democrat., 1941-06-06
CHAPTER v

TUeTS WAShb mucn more. Tne letter was written on hotel station eEy, and Stephan had not suggested any address to which she might re- ply Deborah read 1t again and again.
 what 1t all amounted to, she told herself in the end, was--just nothing - except that he remem- bered her as Q chance acquaint- ance who had been kind to him that summer, and that he felt he owed her the courtesy of this non- colnmittal note,
 One afternoon shortly after ward, Deborah went for 6 long walk among the dunes beyond the town She had often dreamed of bringing stephan here If he came to see her He would love the chilling wind, the fury of the waves Not quite safe to think about that yet, though-nor about stephan.
 She walked fast and fvriously, as if she could run away from those forbidden thoughts which always croucl1ed, waiting in the back of her mind. What, for instance. would all this mean to Stephan2 Strange that he had not been recalled home2
 Except to say casually one day that his visitors permit in the United States would Do good for several months more, he had never mentioned returning to Europe. It was one of those things he had not talked about But the point of view of soldier had crept out often in little involuntary ways
 Toward dusk Deborah struggled home through q fltful wind,
 On the wind came the tang of the sea; and on her lips was the taste of brine. A low scud of rac- Ing dun-colored clouds seemed barely to clear the house -tops; and drops of moisture hung heav. fly on her tweed-covered shoul- ders and in her hair.
 Just now 1t was mist the wind was driving in from sea, In slant ing, remi-translucent screens like softly swaying white draperies. Through it filed Q Inc of fishing boats, scurrying toward the docks, Already 1t was too thick for her to make out the weather signal on the hill.
 By the time Deborah reached the water front, the Harbor was half curtained of. Soon -- unless rain came instead - the fog would be, not just a curtain, but an opaque wall of gray.
 Over the bulkhead that rein forced the little park across the street from the Lovett house, spray tossed fiecks of spume across the sandy turf, while above, Uncle Safn's hens" swooped and wheeled protesting in raucous angry cries And now, even two trim Coast Guard cutters had taken cover in the Harbor, their ships bells adding their warning to that of the fog horn.
 Altogether, Deborah decided, day for . cheerlly blazing wood fire But the fire refused to be cheerful. It refused even to blaze.
 Deborah was choking with stream ing eyes in a smother of smoke when she realized with q sense of ultimate Insult that the draft chill ing her Sweatered back came from the open front door.
 "Bridgiel" she called. Bad cess to you, you crazy lrishwomanl For Heavens sake, shut that door!'
 Bridgie did close the door but conspicuously not with her habitual belligerent bang; and when she an- nounced, "A gentleman to see you, Miss Deborah" 1t was in the honey cd accents which Bridgie saved for occasions of high social luster Tn the bosom of the family, BridgieS communication were car- ried on in jovial below.
 Deborah pivoted about In her knees, tongs in hand, to peer through the enveloping murk. Then borne by c current of air from the entrance, the smoke swirled aloft, and she could see & little.
 Tn the hallway, the formality of his precise little foreign bow dis counted by the holiday flash of his smile, stood stephan.
 
 During the heartache of the past days, Deborah had often re- minded herself that even If she would ever see him again, nothing could be quite the same. But now, standing there, he looked SO like a small boy who has planned a tre- mendous surprise, but is not quite sure how you will receive 1t, that struggling to her feet. she ran to- ward him, hands extended, crying out, "Stephanl How splendid to see youl I didn't"
 She broke of, small cold fingers ciutching at her heart.
 Behind him, the imperfectly latched door had swung open again, and for a moment he stood