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Updated: June 11, 2025
For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this attitude in the matter of a simple kiss.
Night had shut down over the land as Midnight, with her long, swinging strides, clipped through the lighted streets of the prosperous little railway town of Bradin, and drew up at old Doctor Leeds' snug house. A fast express had just thundered shrieking by.
The shots came from the Bradin farm, situated on the heights of Montigny, which the division had just left the same morning, and which a German cavalry reconnaissance patrol supported by two pieces had suddenly occupied. The Colonel had arms taken at once and disposed the regiment north of the road which, being elevated, provided sufficient cover for defilading the men.
Dean emerged from the bathroom polishing his body. "Saw an old friend of yours last night," he remarked. "Passed her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my neck. That girl you brought up to New Haven senior year." Gordon started. "Edith Bradin? That whom you mean?" "'At's the one. Damn good looking.
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