chestnut tree in the public gardens than anywhere else. What did she think? A line dropped to him, care of the Y.M.C.A., Boston, Mass., would reach him all right, and whatever she decided, would be agreeable to him.
Two days later, at the appointed hour, three o'clock in the afternoon, Reba approached the bench under the horse-chestnut tree. Her face bore the tranquil expression of a martyr ready for the great ordeal. The bench, she observed as she caught a glimpse of it from afar, was occupied by a soldier. Unfortunate. Well, she was fifteen minutes early. She would walk around the block. Perhaps the soldier would be gone by the time she returned.
Reba walked three times around the block, but still the soldier remained upon the bench, or near it. He was standing beside it after her first journey; he was pacing up and down in front of it after her second (she was watching him from behind); he was seated upon it again with folded arms after her third. She decided, soldier or no soldier, she must keep her appointment with Nathan. She recalled how shy he used to be. He was probably lurking nearby, in hiding somewhere, waiting for her appearance beneath the horse-chestnut tree. There was no resemblance in the tall straight figure of the soldier to the slouchy sailor whom Reba had met there before.
As she approached the bench it was with absolutely no premonition of the nature of the experience before her. Silently she stole over the soft grass behind the bench, and as quietly and casually as possible slipped on to its extreme end, not even glancing in the soldier's direction as she seated herself. There were
