John was waiting for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose. Thirteen months ago, in a Florida library he took a book off the shelf and found himself intrigued with the notes in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.
In front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.
During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each other through the mail. A Romance was budding. John requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like. Later they scheduled their first meeting—7:00 pm at Grand Central Station in New York.
A young woman in a green suit was coming toward him, her figure long and slim and her eyes were blue as flowers. Almost uncontrollably he made one step closer to her, and just at this moment he saw Hollis Maynell—a woman well past 40. The girl was walking quickly away. He felt as though he split in two, so keen was his desire to follow her, and yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned him and upheld his own.
The woman smiled, “I don’t know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you in the restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!”