When the day finally came for him to return from Europe，they scheduled their first meeting—7p.m.at the Grand Central Station in New York.“You’ll recognize me，”she wrote，“by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel.”So at 7：00he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved，but whose face he’d never seen.
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 coming 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 Mays.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 Mays.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 ahead 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 Mays’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.”
玫瑰女孩
约翰·布兰查德从长椅上站起来，正了正军装，开始在中央车站来来回回的人群中仔细地搜寻。他在找一位与他只有心灵交流却从未谋面的女孩，这个女孩带着一朵玫瑰花。
他对她的好感始于三个月前，在佛罗里达图书馆，从架子上抽出一本书，他被吸引住了，不是书的内容，而是在书页空白处用铅笔做的一些标记。柔和的笔迹反映出它出自于一个有思想的灵魂和见解深刻的头脑。在书的前面，他找到了前一位读者的名字：霍利斯·梅斯小姐。
他花了不少时间和精力，终于找到了她的地址。她住在纽约市。他给她写了一封信，做了自我介绍并请求她保持通信。第二天他便坐船去国外参加二战了。在接下来的一年零一个月里他们两个通过写信逐渐了解了对方。每封信都是落在丰富内心里的一颗种子。一段浪漫史萌芽了。布兰查德请求要一张照片，但她拒绝了。她觉得如果他真的在乎她，就不会介意她长什么样。
当他终于从欧洲回来的那天来临时，他们安排了第一次约会——晚上7点，在纽约中央车站。“你能认出我来，”她写道，“我的上衣翻领上别着一朵玫瑰花。”所以7点钟他就在车站寻找这位他已经深爱但未曾谋过面的女孩。
下面就让布兰查德先生自己告诉我们所发生的事情好了：
一位年轻的女士朝我走来，身材修长苗条。金色卷发从精巧的耳朵后面垂下来；她的眼睛像花一样的蓝，双唇和下巴文雅而坚定。她穿着浅绿色的套装，仿佛春天又来临了。我向她走去，全然忘了注意她并没有带着玫瑰。在我朝她走去的时候，她的双唇线条弯曲了一下，露出浅浅的诱人的微笑。“别挡我路啊，海员？”她低声说。几乎无法自制的我又向她走近了一步，然后，我看到了霍利斯·梅斯。她几乎就站在这位女士的后面。一位40多岁的妇女，灰色的头发塞在一顶破旧的帽子下面。她太过于丰满了，从浑圆的脚踝可以看出双脚简直是硬塞进一双低跟鞋里。穿绿套装的女孩很快走开了。
我感到自己像被撕成了两半，有那么强烈的欲望想去追随那位女孩，然而，又深切地渴望这位妇女——一直都是她的灵魂真正在陪伴我、支持我。
她就站在那里，她的胖胖的脸是温柔的、明智的，她灰色的眼睛发出温暖的、和蔼的光芒。我不再犹豫了。我的手紧握住那本破旧的蓝色皮革小书，她能通过这个认出我来。这不是爱情，却是某种很珍贵的东西，一种甚至比爱情更美好的东西，一段我曾经拥有并会永远心怀感激的友情！我正了一下肩膀，敬礼，并把这本书递给这位妇女，尽管在我说话时，由于失望而有些哽咽。
“我是约翰·布兰查德中尉，你一定是梅斯女士吧，我很高兴见到你，我可以邀请你去吃晚餐吗？”
这位妇女的脸扩展为一抹宽容的笑：“我不知道这是怎么回事，孩子，”她说，“但刚刚过去的那位穿绿色裙装的年轻女士，求我在外套上带上这朵玫瑰花，她还说如果你请我去吃晚餐，我就可以接着告诉你她在街对面的那个大饭店等你。她说这是一种什么考验。”
梅斯小姐的智慧不难理解并很值得欣赏。一颗心的真正本质能从对没有吸引力的反应中看出来。“告诉我你爱什么人，”乌塞耶曾经写道，“我就能说出你是什么人。”
Full of Love
“I’m going to marry you one day.”Beth said to her long time crush Jake.She wore her favorite blue teddy bear shirt.Her four-year-old blue eyes shined in the sun.
“No，you’re not，you’re a little girl.”Jake said.
The California afternoon wind blew his light brown hair.Jumping off the monkey bars he laughed back to class.
Sitting alone and confused she didn’t know what to do.Beth sat high on the monkey bars crying.How can her future husband just leave like that？
She was going to get him，but how？“I will not let him get away！I won’t！I won’t！”
15years later：
“I love you，too，Jake.”Hanging up the phone she caught her mom smiling.“What？”
“When is he coming in from France？He’s been there for awhile.”She sat down on her black leather couch.The house was made up of different Indian stuff.On the walls were different dream catchers.Her mother was a full blood Cherokee Indian.She passed away when Beth was eight.
“He has a lot of schooling to do right now.Maybe this Saturday.”
Fixing her short overalls she thought of Jake.Who would have thought they were going to date when she turned five？
“Is he still living in Colorado？”Her mother Kay wore a white tank top with tan pants.And long blonde hair with pretty blue eyes.She was the most beautiful woman on Earth.And Beth is looking like her by the minute.
“Yeah，I hate having a long distance relationship.”She plopped on a leather chair.
“It’s OK，baby，you know he loves you more than anything in this world.Love will keep you together.”
Beth could not help but smile.Her mother is and will always be her best friend.
Jake sat in his hotel the school rented for him.School of law.He loved going overseas for everything.But he missed being with Beth.That hurt him the most.
Spending the lonely nights in the hotel made him think of how much it would hurt to spend the rest of his life without her in it.
Getting up off his bed he went into the bathroom.Watching his reflection in the mirror，all he could think about was Beth.He would leave Thursday，and get there Friday night.
Turning off the light he jumped into the cold bed.On a coffee table near his bed rested a frame with them in it.
It was taken at a beach about two years ago.It was the best time of their lives.
It was Thursday morning and Beth waited for Jake’s morning phone call.He would call at eight —it was ten.