"But he'll come back soon, Geraldine, and when he does perhaps then..."

She turned toward her visitor suddenly, from the closet, where sho was putting things away. "Oh, Louise! Stop it, please! You sound like Mamal "

He sat waiting, gazing around the parlor. He could feel the hard, straight-backed chair against his spine becoming more uncomfortable. He watched the stiff lace curtains blowing idly in the warm summer breeze, and ho thought of the young woman. His thoughts were the visions of youth, dreamy and magnificent. He glanced at the piano where her fingers had been, and something vague and unrealistic in him envied the ivory keys. He shook off his thoughts when he heard the voices of the young women in the hallway; and he stood up to greet them.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Daniels, and you too, Mr. Daniels, and... Miss Daniels. And it was indeed a pleasure to meet you, Miss...Miss..." "Anderson."

"Oh yes, I'm sorry; Miss Anderson." He stood there, on the doorstep, fiddling with his wide-brimmed hat, trying to gather up onough courage to say something fine along with his goodbye; trying to impart his feelings, on having to separate from her, but not finding words; wishing he could reach out to her, but not knowoing how. He took another step away from her, backing out the door. He gazed at her wistfully, but she seemed to be occupied in straightening the ruffles on her girl-friend's blouse. She wasn't looking at him. He backed away another step or two, and repeated: "Goodnight Miss Daniels..." She gave him a brief glance when she answered, and he was content. He strode out into the night; the stars were white, and close, and so beautiful that they fitted themselves into his mood. He slapped his army hat on his blondo head at a jaunty angle, and walked briskly along. He was whistling. "Over There...Over There...Send the word, send the word,

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