"Yes, Sally Carrol."

He felt a little hand insert itself into his.

"She was dark, I think; and she always wore her hair with a
ribbon in it, and gorgeous hoop-skirts of Alice blue and old
rose."

"Yes."

"Oh, she was sweet, Harry! And she was the sort of girl born to
stand on a wide, pillared porch and welcome folks in. I think
perhaps a lot of men went away to war meanin' to come back to
her; but maybe none of 'em ever did."

He stooped down close to the stone, hunting for any record of
marriage.

"There's nothing here to show."

"Of course not. How could there be anything there better than
just 'Margery Lee,' and that eloquent date?"

She drew close to him and an unexpected lump came into his throat
as her yellow hair brushed his cheek.

"You see how she was, don't you Harry?"

"I see," he agreed gently. "I see through your precious eyes.