Publisher's Synopsis
Sergeant Quinby Graham adjusted his overseas cap, turned back his coat to show his distinguished-conduct medal, and went blithely up the steps to the dance-hall. The first girl who looked at him . . . why, he knew what he would do.
But he was outrageously thin, with the pallor that comes from long confinement. His hands and feet seemed too big for the rest of him, and his blond hair stuck up in a bristly mop above his high forehead. Swagger as he would, his shoulders, usually so square and trim, refused to fill out his uniform.
It was the first time he had worn that uniform in . . . how long? Six months! His wardrobe had been limited to pajamas and bath-robes during his convalescence in hospitals here and abroad. Two years before, when he had left a lumber camp in Maine to answer America's first call for volunteers for France, his personal appearance had concerned him not in the least.
But the army had changed that -- as it had changed most things, for Quin.
