He might easily have stood unseen in the crowd, and have
watched and listened and been proud of her. Then, these last weeks,
when he had been working, or dining out, or sitting dreary and
bored in a theater, she had been out in the streets. Ah, she lived,
did Audrey. Others worked and played, but she lived. Audrey!
Audrey!
" - in the rain," the rector was saying. "But she didn't mind it.
I remember her saying to the crowd, 'It's raining over here, and
maybe it's raining on the fellows in the trenches. But I tell you,
I'd rather be over there, up to my waist in mud and water, than
scurrying for a doorway here.' They had started to run out of the
shower, but at that they grinned and stopped. She was wonderful,
Clayton."
In the rain! And after it was over she would go home, in some
crowded bus or car, to her lonely rooms, while he rolled about the
city in a limousine! It was cruel of her not to have told him, not
to have allowed him at least to see that she was warm and dry.
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