George was a nice-looking chap and Mary always thrilled with joy when the other girls saw him come for her. He was so steady and dependable. On that particular day, some people at a nearby table in the restaurant sat and stared at him.
At first, Mary had merely gloried in the clean, good looks that always attracted such favorable attention. Then her woman's jealousy stirred, for the girl who was watching him had a cheap and flashy prettiness, and she seemed much more interested in George than in the hard-faced man at her side. "I asked it in if he knew them? Oh, Miss Fairfax, he said he didn't, but that was the girl I saw him with later, and he stated as if he'd never seen me before."
The rest of her story was quickly told. At five, she left her place of employment and hurried home. She stopped at a little neighborhood store to do an errand and presently she met George and the flashy-looking girl she had seen in the restaurant. Her lover had a heavy bandage about his throat, but he still wore his uniform and badge. She stifled her quick impulse of jealousy and spoke to him. He stared at her blankly with expressionless eyes that had in them no trace of interest.
"Think of it, Miss Fairfax. My George walked along next to that painted-up thing and cut me dead. She took him by the arm and hurried him away—and he didn't even try to stop her. But whatever he did is her fault. I'm sure, George is honest and I love him so. Oh, won  't you find him for me. Mister?"
"Here's his photograph," cried Mrs. Kvan. 