It happened in one of those picturesque Danish taverns that cater to tourists and where English is spoken. I was with my father on a business-and-pleasure trip，and in our leisure hours we were having a wonderful time.
“It‘s a pity your mother couldn’t come，”said Father.“It would be wonderful to show her around.”
He had visited Denmark when he was a young man. I asked him，“How long is it since you were here？”
“Oh，about 30 years. I remember being in this very inn，by the way.”He looked around，remembering.
“Those were gracious days-”He stopped suddenly，and I saw that his face was pale. I followed his eyes and looked across the room to a woman who was setting a tray of drinks before some customers. She might have been pretty once，but now she was stout and her hair was untidy.“Do you know her？”I asked……
“I did once，”he said.
The woman come to our table.“Drinks？”she inquired.
“We‘ll have beer，”I said. She nodded and went away.
“How she has changed！Thank heaven she didn‘t recognize me，”muttered Father mopping his face with a handkerchief.“I know her before I ever met your mother，”he went on.“I was a student，on a tour. She was a lovely young thing，very graceful. I fell madly in live with her，and she with me.”
“Does Mother know about her？”I blurted out，resentfully.
“Of course，”Father said gently. He looked at me a little anxiously. I felt embarrassed for him.
I said，“Dad，you don‘t have to-”
“Oh，yes，I want to tell you. I don‘t want you wondering about this. Her father objected to our romance. I was a foreigner. I had no prospects，and was dependent on my father. When I wrote Father that I wanted to get married he cut off my allowance. And I had to go home. But I met the girl once more，and told her I would return to America，borrow enough money to get married on，and come back for her in a few months.”
“We know，”he continued，“that her father might intercept a letter，so we agreed that I would simply mail her a slip of paper with a date on it，the time she was to meet me at a certain place；then we‘d married. Well，I went home，got the loan and sent her the date. She received the note. She wrote me：”I’ll be there.“But she wasn‘t. Then I found that she had been married about two weeks before，to a local innkeeper. She hadn’t waited.”
Then my father said，“Thank God she didn‘t. I went home，met your mother，and we’ve been completely happy. We often joke about that youthful love romance.”
The woman appeared with our beer.
“You are from America？”she asked me.
“Yes，”I said.
She beamed.“A wonderful country，America.”
“Yes，a lot of your countrymen have gone there. Did you ever think of it？”
“Not me. Not now，”she said.“I think so one time，a ling time ago. But I stay here. I much better here.”
We drank our beer and left. Outside I said，“Father，just how did you write that date on which she was to meet you？”
He stopped，took out an envelope and wrote on it.“Like this，”he said.“12/11/73，which was，of course，December 11，1973.”
“No！”I exclaimed.“It isn‘t in Denmark or any European country. Over here they write the day first，then the month. So that date wouldn’t be December 11 but the 12th of November！”
Father passed his hand over his face.“So she was there！”he exclaimed.“And it was because I didn‘t show up that she got married.”He was silent a while.“Well，”he said.，“I hope she’s happy. She seems be.”
As we resumed walking I blurted out，“It is a lucky thing it happened that way. You wouldn‘t have met Mother.”
He put his arm around my shoulders，looked at me with a heart-warming smile，and said，“I was doubly lucky，young fellow，for otherwise I wouldn‘t have met you，either！”
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