gaze upon the antithesis of death. His foot is set in an undiscovered country tonight. He is obedient, ready to go. “Goodnight,” she says.
“I never kissed a girl before,” he confesses, “except my sisters.”
“You didn’t this time,” she laughs, “I kissed you—good-night.”
“When shall I see you again?” he persists.
“You promised me to go home,” she frowns, “and get well. Perhaps we shall meet again—soon. Good-night.” He hesitates, his hat in hand. She smiles broadly and kisses him once more, upon the forehead. She watches him far down the aisle, then sits again at the table.
The shadow falls once more against the wall. This time the big, softly stepping man parts the curtains and looks in. Miss Rosa’s eye meets his, and for half a minute they remain thus, silent, fighting a battle with
