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The craftsman
Volume XXVII, Number 5 (February 1915)

Comfort, Will Levington
Vintage, nineteen fourteen: a story,   pp. 508-515 PDF (2.5 MB)


Page 508


VINTAGE, NINETEEN FOURTEEN: A S'
BY WILL LEVINGTON COMFORT
___ ___ ___ __ l-vr  A "tY  I* .11  " h1r) 1 _   . .... T:V11--
 1_
YI LAIN, o0 the  olar Jr ajure especially, DI
head for the war stuff, with young Darn
pulled together through the waiting days in
-nothing much going out, but pale deatl
war making pictures in their brains that b
answer. Between them they had seen the I
              ana DiacKenuigs at g1 , l aui ang     f
many lesser towns besides, and were hung up now in Laral
had escaped wrecking so far, and was still trying to pursue i
business in the mighty tension. The two correspondents'
in two weeks before with a German reserve column, which
anointing the French vineyards. They lived together, und,
of the German garrison, in the club room of socialists who
foregathered.
   Darnton was out on the night that Major Ulrich, the
suppresser, called with the announcement that two would be'.
to go on into France with a column leaving to-morrow.
   "It may be you will watch us enter Paris," he said to Boylan.
r
   "My young friend Darnton will be glad to hear that, Major."
"j
   "Where is Mr. Darnton to-night?"
   "He's calling on a lady-"
   "Ah, yes, Miss Coolidge of America-the paint-tube lady. S4
is going on up to Holland to-morrow with other foreigners who ha
remained thus far."
   Major Ulrich was a bit bright with wine, but not so as to rocl
He would have remained longer, but Boylan wanted to see Darntom
and to do other work, so did not suggest opening anything. He likec
the younger man more than Darnton knew, and likings of this so1t
were not even occasional. Boylan was nearing fifty-a man all
one piece-thick, hard, scarred with la viruela, a saber sweep, a gre.1
blue arc in his throat where some dart or arrow had torn its way i
between the vital columns. His head was bald and wrinkled, but
very big, his neck and jaw to match, his eyes a soft blue that onfS
had been his secret shame-a man often called to the glare.   I
   Just now Boylan was in the street-on the way to the house where!
a few courageous Americans beside Miss Coolidge had stayed as! ong
as permissible. Darnton would be there. . . . A certain dead-
cavalry horse was powerful in the air. Boylan knew exactly whert
it lay, for it had called attention for three days-saddled and all.
...      He pushed open the hallway door, and heard Darnton's
voice.  The place was dim.   They neither saw nor heard him.
The huge scarred head of the old warwolf withdrew jerkily-'
508


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