It was at the book counter in the department store that John Harcourt,the student,caught a glimpse of his father.At first he could not be sure in the crowed that pushed along the aisle,but there was something about the colour of the back of the elderly man's neck,something about the faded felt hat,that he knew very well. Harcourt was standing with the girl he loved,buying a book for her.All afternoon he had been talking to her,eagerly,but with an anxious difference,