Peaches in November! The men in the trenches had no peaches, no
squabs, no mushrooms, no avacados--for them bully beef and soup cubes,
a handful of dates, or by good luck a bit of chocolate.

He left the peach untasted--he had a feeling that he might thus,
vicariously, atone for the hardships of those others who fought.

After dinner he walked downtown. Passing Dr. McKenzie's house he was
constrained to loiter. There were lights upstairs and down. Was Jean
McKenzie's room behind the two golden windows above the balcony? Was
she there, or in the room below, where shaded lamps shone softly among
the shadows?

He yearned to go in--to speak with her--to learn her thoughts--to read
her heart and mind. As yet he knew only the message of her beauty. He
fancied her as having exquisite sensibility, sweetness, gentleness,
perceptions as vivid as her youth and bloom.

The front door opened, and Jean and her father came out. Derry's heart
leaped as he heard her laugh. Then her clear voice, "Isn't it a
wonderful night to walk, Daddy?" and her father's response, "Oh, you
with your ecstasies!"

They went briskly down the other side of the street. Derry found
himself following, found himself straining his ear for that light
laugh, found himself wishing that it were he who walked beside her,
that her hand was tucked into his arm as it was tucked into her
father's.