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A Lover waits no more with flowers and sweets—or just "taffy" and a kiss—when the Girl-of-his-Heart leaves her ship in France. He is plodding away in the mud somewhere under his steel derby—and she goes to headquarters of Red Cross or Y.M.C.A. Canteen, alone. So it came that "Golden-Eyes" found her lover's arms, in the square of a half-shattered, still smiling French town behind the lines; while the sky of France looked on, and French and British and American eyes, under cap and steel and faded, blue-velvet "Blue Devil," covered them with envy and lingered long on the spectacle of their joy. Found them, just for a breathless space set like a rare jewel in the dull metal of "Golden-Eyes" and “Bill,” long eternity apart, while he waited to go into the big push with his new strange pals and his old ones “Golden-Eyes” was driving a canteen-supply lorry. "Love" and Uncle Sam" were speechless and star-eyed.
"Oh, Bill, Darling, you look like a Frenchman!" "Golden-Eyes" sees the strange, yet well-loved face, grown sterner and finer—mustached!
"MY girl, you gallant thing, you've pulled your curls out for me—I KNOW you can't keep them bobbing and drive a truck—most times!" "Bill" finds tears on brown eyelashes and kisses them dry before all the world.
"WE SERVE!" exults even "Uncle Sam" as he lifts his nose in France.
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