SCENE: A GIRL sits crouched over her knees on a stile close to a
river. A MAN with a silver badge stands beside her clutching the
worn top plank. THE GIRL'S level brows are drawn together; her
eyes see her memories. THE MAN'S eyes see THE GIRL; he has a
dark, twisted face. The bright sun shines; the quiet river flows;
the cuckoo is calling; the mayflower is in bloom along the hedge
that ends in the stile on the towing-path.
[Footnote 1: From _Scribner's Magazine_, May, 1919.
Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons; included by special
permission of the writer and publishers.]
THE GIRL. God knows what 'e'll say, Jim.
THE MAN. Let 'im. 'E's come too late, that's all.
THE GIRL. He couldn't come before. I'm frightened. 'E was fond o'
me.
THE MAN. And aren't I fond of you? My Gawd!
THE GIRL. I ought to 'a' waited, Jim; with 'im in the fightin'.
THE MAN (_passionately_). And what about me? Aren't I been in the
fightin'--earned all I could get?
THE GIRL (_touching him_). Ah!