Ho turned his glance again to the young woman at the piano. He felt the omptiness of her presence against him, echoing, like the far-off sound of a pink seashell; and he wished that she would return to the room, in spirit, and be with him again. She seemed distant, lost to him, as she oat thoro, abcorbod in the music, staring down at her fingers moving across the yellowed keys; far away, in her own world.

When the old-fashioned doorbell sounded, the young woman's hands fell from the keys as though a wire had been pulled somewhere inside of her. She arose then, and hurried to the black sliding door; the she turned, flustered. "Pleaso excuse me, Mr. Harwood. I believe that may be my girlfriend, Louise."

The young man arose hastily, holding his khaki soldior hat out before him. "Why cortainly, Miss Daniels," he replied.

"Youve got a new traveling bag..."

"Not really now, Geraldine. It belongs to my brother. I brought it because it was the only one I could find that held all the things I seem to bring here with mo every time I come."

"Including your lovely gifts, Louise."

She glanced back at her, and smiled, turning toward tho mirror, to remove her white straw hat, "I'll freshen up a bit, then I'll come in and meet your young man.

"Mr. Harwood is not my 'young man', as you refer to him, Louise. He is just a friend, a neighborhood boy, and he's going away to war. This is to be his last visit... for awhile."

The tall, blonde young woman smoothed her hair before the mirror; in its depths she caught the gazo of the other. She smiled. "He will return, Geraldine."

"I hope so, Louise. He's a fine boy; but for myself, I'm really not interested in him...that way."

5