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Updated: April 30, 2025
In the warm darkness he put out his hand to feel his way through the room. It touched a little sweater coat of Harmony's, hanging over the back of a chair. Peter picked it up in a very passion of tenderness and held it to him. "Little girl!" he choked. "My little girl! God help me!" He was rather ashamed, considerably startled.
For he had a sudden mad impulse to shout Harmony's name, to hold out his arms, to call her to him there in the warm darkness, and when she had come, to catch her to him, to tell his love in one long embrace, his arms about her, his rough cheek against her soft one. No wonder he grew somewhat dizzy and had to pull himself together.
"I'll not stir. I want to sew, and my room is such a mess!" Harmony threw the door wide. "You will make me very happy, if only my practicing does not disturb you." Dr. Gates came in and closed the door. "I'll probably be the disturbing element," she said. "I'm a noisy sewer." Harmony's immaculate room and radiant person put her in good humor immediately.
The incident was not entirely closed, however. A search of the building followed the capture of the little spy. Protesting tenants were turned out, beds were dismantled, closets searched, walls sounded for hidden hollows. In one room on Harmony's floor was found stored a quantity of ammunition.
There had been much talk in the Pension Schwarz about the departure together of the three Americans. The Jew from Galicia still raved over Harmony's beauty. Georgiev rather hoped, by staying by Peter, to be led toward his star. But Peter left him at the Doctors' Club, still amiable, but absolutely obtuse to the question nearest the little spy's heart. The club was almost deserted.
She turned pale when she saw the sentry in his belted blue-gray tunic and high cap. She thought, of course, that Jimmy had been traced and that now he would be taken away. If the sentry knew her, however, he kept his face impassive and merely touched his cap. The Portier stated their errand. Harmony's face cleared.
"I'll take precious good care that the girl gets no pupils," snapped Mrs. Boyer. And she did with great thoroughness. We trace a life by its scars. Destiny, marching on by a thousand painful steps, had left its usual mark, a footprint on a naked soul. The soul was Harmony's; the foot was it not encased at that moment in Mrs. Boyer's comfortable house shoes? Anna was very late that night.
It was just in time. Harmony's funds were low, and the Frau Professor Bergmeister had gone to St. Moritz for the winter. She regretted the English lessons, but there were always English at St. Moritz and it cost nothing to talk with them. Before she left she made Harmony a present. "For Christmas," she explained.
There he thought of something to say in reply, repudiation, thought better of it, started down the stairs. Boyer followed him helplessly. At the street door, however, he put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "You know, old man, I don't believe that. These women " "I know," said Peter simply. "Thank you. Good-night." Harmony's only thought had been flight, from Peter, from McLean, from Mrs. Boyer.
So with an eye on the chances, also observing the slant of the wind, and such minor yet important things, Jack tried his best to work matters that the ball would still be in their possession when on Harmony's 30-yard line. At last he gave the signal. The crowd stood up to see better when it was realized that a kick from field was going to be resorted to.
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