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Updated: July 4, 2025
Through it came the soft breezes of the Cuban night, a glimpse of brilliantly starred horizon- line, and the cheerful voice of Private Kelly, raised in song. The words came distinctly to the helpless officer's reluctant ears. "'Oh, Liza, de-ar Liza," carolled Kelly, in buoyant response to the beauty of the evening.
Barrett usually tapped, not at his door, but at the wooden wall beyond which lay Oleron's bed; and then Oleron rose, put on his dressing-gown, and admitted her. He was not conscious that as he did so that morning he hummed an air; but Mrs. Barrett lingered with her hand on the door-knob and her face a little averted and smiling. "De-ar me!" her soft falsetto rose.
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