Question

In six minutes Lt. Blandford would meet the woman he thought he loved. He had corresponded

with her for over a year, but he had never met her or seen her picture. Would he be surprised or

disappointed?

Six minutes to six, said the clock over the information booth in New York’s Grand central

Station. The tall young Army lieutenant lifted his sunburned face, and narrowed his eyes to note

the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him. In six minutes he would

see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past thirteen months, the

woman he had never seen, yet those written words had sustained him unfailingly.

Lieutenant Blandford remembered one day in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his

plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of enemy planes.

In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before

his battle, he had received her answer: “Of course you fear…all brave men do. Next time you

doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: “Yea, though I walk through the

valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me”… He had remembered

and it had renewed his strength.

Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six.

A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a flower, but it

was not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, the girl was only about 18, and Hollis

Meynell had told him she was 30. “What of it?” he had answered. “I’m 32.” He was 29.

His mind went back to that book he had read in the training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was;

and throughout the book were notes in a woman’s writing. He had never believed that a woman

could see into a man’s heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate:

Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He

had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.

For 13 months she had faithfully replied. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, and

now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.

But she refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. She had explained: “If your feeling for

me has any reality, what I look like won’t matter. Suppose I’m beautiful, I’d always be haunted

by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust

me. Suppose I’m plain (and you must admit that it is more likely), then I’d always fear that you
were only writing because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don’t ask for my picture.

When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision.”

One minute to six… Then Lieutenant Blandford’s heart leapt.

A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back

in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle

firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive. He started toward her,

forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile

curved her lips.

“Going my way, soldier?” she murmured.

He made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.

She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked

under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into a low-heeled

shoe. But she wore a red rose on her rumpled coat.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

Blandford felt as if though he were being split into two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl,

yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his

own; and there she stood. He could see that her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her

grey eyes had a warm twinkle.

Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the worn copy of Human Bondage

which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, a

friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful…

He squared his shoulders, saluted, and held out the book toward the woman, although even

while he spoke he felt the bitterness of his disappointment.

“I’m Lieutenant John Blandford and you — you are Miss Meynell. I’m so glad you can meet

me. May – may I take you to dinner?”

The woman’s face broadened in a tolerant smile. “I don’t know what this is all about, son,” she

answered. “That young lady in the green suit, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And

she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she’s waiting for you in

that restaurant across the street. She said that it was kind of a test.”

​

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