Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

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Wallace ! she has gasped. Oh, my God l She had felt brokeng she was numb and bewildered. Yes, Florence, it is I, he had said. He, too, was broken. She could see that he had had a terrible battle with himself. Suddenly, she had felt sorry for him, knowing that she still loved him. Swiftly she had gone to him and taken him in her arms. No, Florence, dear, you musn't. Not-not until I've told you what -what-that is, how rotten I've been to you, he had said painfully. It doesn't matter, darling, she had said passionately. I love you anyhow. No, no, he had insisted. I must tell you. Please, dearest. Don't -don't interrupt me. It-will be-easier if you don't. She had promised and he had begun weakly. When I left you in Norfolk that summer, I was so happy. Every- thing was bright and I was the proudest man on earth. Then when I got aboard, the-the admiral's daughter, Martha, was there and-and she had the admiral invite Clint and me to dinner. She was very charming and beautiful and had taken a shine to Clint and, he had winced, I took a shine to her. I was sure I loved her and was ready to do almost anything to get her. Oh, Florence, he broke off, I've been such a fool. Go on, dearest, she had said caressing his forehead tenderly though her heart was breaking. Well, to make a long, bitter story short, the day that the admiral was threatened by that spy- he had found it hard to continue. And somehow you changed places with Clinton? she had asked. She had felt stronger then. Yes, he had said with difficulty, when I came to, they were calling me Kirby. Somehow, in the explosion, all of our identifications got mixed. I-I was so infatuated with Martha that I decided to let it go at that. Clint, poor fellow, was dead. I knew that you would get the war insurance and that-that you'd probably soon forget me, and-and get married again or-or something, he had ended lamely. He had paused exhausted. She had said nothing but had held him closer, knowing that she loved him and yet knowing that she ought to hate him. Finally he had begun again, My nose was broken and with the cuts on my face, I looked very much like Clint. Everyone thought I was he. When I got back to port and I found Martha waiting for Clint, I was ex- THE MISSILE Page thirteen

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Here on March 22, 1920, he married Martha Denton, the admiral's daughter. He is survived by his wife and two children, Marian, aged 8, and Walter, aged 6. His will, made only last week, bequeathed two-thirds of his estate to his wife and children and one-third to Mrs. Florence Hughes and Wal- lace Hughes, Jr., the wife and son of his old friend. The funeral, which will .... Si! if 1 Ik Florence Hughes stopped reading. She was thinking of her own life. Her life had really begun the day that she had first seen Wallace. She could still see him bending over her little dog at which several bad boys had been throwing stones. He had Walked home with her, and a natural friendship had blossomed forth. She remembered the thrill she had had at the thought of going to Annapolisg then she was thereg and then, June 26, 1917, their wedding day. It had been a simple wedding with only a few friends. Wallace had had to leave the next week, and that was the last time she ever saw him. It was only a few months later that he had been killed. Then the baby had come. Florence smiled, she had always been so proud of him, he was so like his father, loving the sea and every- thing connected with it. He had become a Sea Scout, admired and Well- liked by all of his many friends. So much so, in fact, that he was unani- mously chosen by his troop of Sea Scouts to represent them at Annapolis. This abruptly brought her back to the present. She remembered the telegram telling of Wallace's injuries, and urging her to come immediatelyg the hurried preparations and the all-night flying. Then the hospital and her child-he hadn't recognized her-waiting painfully for news and finally receiving a good report and knowing that he would recover, then being ushered into Clinton Kirby's room. The shades had been drawn when she had entered. Kirby had told the nurse to go and had asked Florence to sit down. She had obeyed, and as she had started to thank him, he had raised his hand weakly. Please, Florence, he had said thickly. She had stopped, wondering, and then she had looked at him closely. Her heart had leapt into action and clamored to be let out. Her blood had frozen, and yet it was coursing through her veins with the speed of a bul- let. Her lungs had achedg she was afraid to breathe and her head had held a million riveting machines. Pagetwelve THE MISSILE

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71- L ultant. She was nicer than she'd ever been to Clint and-well, then we got married. I soon found that she could never take your place and that I really didn't love her. There was nothing I could do, but I truly paid for my sins. I thought about you almost constantly until my heart nearly burned out. Then last week when-our son came to my house and I found that we had a son and that you'd been true to me, oh, Florence, I could hardly bear it all ! Florence had spoken impetuously, Don't, don't. It's all behind us now. We've got the best of our lives ahead of us. The past doesn't matter. No, he had said sadly, my life is nearly over. I am dying and as a dying man I beg you, Florence, to-to forgive me. No, no, you can't die, she had cried. It wouldn't be fair. Not when I've just gotten you back ! Please, Florence, he had been firm, it would hurt you more if I lived. Please, Florence, say that you'll forgive me. I know it's much, much more than I deserve, but please say it. Why-why, yes, yes, I do forgive you, Wallace, I do. She had felt dazed. He had smiled a wan smile. Thank you, my dearest. Then he had closed his eyes and had been very still. Panic had struck at Florence's heart. She had left him, half running, half stumbling, down the corridor. She had been white and trembling when she found the nurse and had blurted forth almost unintelligible phrases. However, the nurse understood. They had put her in a White room and had given her bitter things to drink. Finally they had told her that he was dead. She hadn't cried, for she knew then that it was best he had died. All this had happened a few hours ago, yet it seemed like an eternity. She wondered, dully, if Martha knew about her. Florence thought not, and she knew that Martha would never know from her. I wonder if I can go to see my child now, she thought as she laid the paper down on the table. Page fourteen THE MISSILE