Harry thought of Millie at home, crossing the Red River on horseback, ringing the bell to call the Indians to church, reading to the children their evening Bible story, trying to divert their clamors for Daddy. Tom conversed with the men. Harold remembered Deborah’s face, white but brave, as he had said good-bye. Nowwas the time whenmonotonous reality could have dimmed the vision that had arisen in the heart of the returned marine one night on the platform in Times Square, and in the heart of the returned sailor in the light of the campfire service. This is the difference between dreams which forever remain hazy ideas, and divine visions which put boots on and tramp ahead through the ruts to reality.
58
Made with FlippingBook - Online Brochure Maker