True Nature Of Love

John Blanchard stood up from the bench,staightened his army uniform,and studied the crowd of people making their way through grand central station.He looked for the girl whose heart he knew,but whose face he didn't,the girl with the rose.
His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library.Taking a book off the shelf,he found himself intrigued,not with the words of the book,but with the notes pencilled in the margin.The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and an insightful mind.In the front of the book,he discovered the previous owner's name,miss Hollis Maynell.
With time and effort,he located her address.She lived in New York City.He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War 2.During the next year and one month ,the two grew to know each other through mail.Each letter was a seed falling on fertile heart.A romance was budding.
Blanchard requested a photograph,but she refused.She felt that if he really cared,it wouldn't matter how she looked.When the day finally came for him to return from Europe,they scheduled their first meeting-7.00 pm 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 7.00,he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved,but whose face he hadn't seen.
Let Blanchchard narrate the rest of the story:A young woman came towards me,her figure long and slim.Her blond 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 come alive.I started towards 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 Maynell.She was standing almost directly behind the girl.A woman past 40,she had greying hair tucked under a worn hat.She was more than plumb,her thick ankle 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 sprirt had truly companioned me and up-held my own.And there she stood.Her pale,plumb face was gentle ans 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 shoulder 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 Ms. Maynell.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  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 Ms. Maynell's wisdom..........The true nature of the heart is seen in its response to the unattractive."Tell me whom you LOVE?"