theKremlin a stamp collection and.... Aw, you take it, sir. I'm pooped."
* * * * *
The general wheeled to fire a salvo of commands. Officers poured intothe corridor. Only the brigadier remained, a puzzled frown crinklinghis granite brow.
"But you said that postal workers weren't getting sick."
Andy chucked. "That's right. Did you ever see a post office clerklick a stamp? They always use a sponge."
The general looked to Bettijean, to Andy, to the stamp. He grinned andthe grin became a rumbling laugh. "How would you two like a thirty-dayfurlough to rest up--or to get better acquainted?"
Bettijean squealed. Andy reached for her hand.
"And while you're gone," the general continued, "I'll see what stringsI can pull. If I can't wangle you a couple of battlefield commissions,I'll zip you both through O.C.S. so fast you won't even have time topin on the bars."
But neither Andy nor Bettijean had heard a word after the mention offurlough. Like a pair of puppy-lovers, they were sinking into thedepths of each other's eyes.
And the general was still chuckling as he picked up the lone four-centstamp in his left hand, made a gun of his right hand, and marched thestamp out of the office under guard.
THE END
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