“No chance!” she murmured low. “Not a chance in the world.” And yet, she dared hope.
Now catching the drone of an airplane motor, she shaded her eyes to look away toward the east. Standing where she was, she watched the large gray plane come driving in, then circling low, make a perfect landing.
“Oh!” she breathed. “If only—” she did not finish, but marched soberly on her way.
Having made a round of the city’s stores, she was headed back to the home of her hostess. “Tomorrow,” she thought, “I shall go back to our happy valley.” But would it be so happy for her? When one longs to be in one place, can he be truly happy in another? Who knows? As it turned out, Florence would not be obliged to test her ability to be happy.
Of a sudden, as she walked along, she heard someone call: “Florence! Florence Huyler!” Turning about, she found herself facing a total stranger.
“You are Florence Huyler,” the man smiled.
“How—how did you know?” she gasped.
“If you hadn’t been, you wouldn’t have turned about so quickly,” he laughed. “Ever try calling out quite loudly, ‘John!’ at the edge of a large crowd? No, of course not. Just try it sometime. You’ll be surprised at the number of Johns that turn to answer.
“But that—” his voice changed, “that’s not the point. Suppose you heard of the accident?”
“Accident? No! I—” her face paled.