At the edge of the camp he halted. From there one could see a brilliance reflected in the sky—the lights of the port of embarkation, ten miles away.
Sergeant Gray sighed and sat down on the road near an automobile. And somebody spoke to him.
“Can I take you anywhere?” asked the voice.
It was young and feminine. Something that had been aching in Sergeant Gray’s deep chest suddenly stopped aching and leaped.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere in particular.”
“I just thought”—explained the voice—“I’m waiting for the—for a relative and I might as well be taking people to the street-car line. The taxis have stopped.”
A car leaving the camp threw its lights on her. She was small and young and had a pointed chin. Sergeant Gray got up.
“It’s awfully good of you,” he said. “If it isn’t too much trouble I’ll go to the end of the line.”
“Get in,” she said briefly.
Sergeant Gray sat back in the little car and drew a long breath.