I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:
A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim.
Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears;
her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness,
and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive.
I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that
she was not wearing a rose.
As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.
"Going my way, sailor?" she murmured.
Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her,
and then I saw Hollis Maynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl.
A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat.
She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.
I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her,
and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly
companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood.
Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible,
her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle.
I did not hesitate.
My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book
that was to identify me to her.
This would not be love, but it would be something precious,
something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for
which I had been and must ever be grateful.
I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman,
even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell.
I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"
The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile.
"I don't know what this is about, son," she answered,
"but the young lady in the green suit who just went by,
she begged me to wear this rose on my coat.
And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner,
I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you
in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom.
The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.
"Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote,
"And I will tell you who you are."