ell you now how I feel about this thing. I can't talk about it, that's
all. We'll finish up now and let it go at that. I'm sorry there's a
war. I'll send money when I can afford it, to help the Belgians, though
my personal opinion is that they're getting theirs for what they did in
the Congo. But I don't want to hear about what you did over there."

He saw her face, and he went to her and kissed her cheek.

"I don't want to hurt you, honey," he said. "I love you with all my
heart. But somehow I can't forget that you left me and went over there
when there was no reason for it. You put off our marriage, and I
suppose we'd better get it over. Go ahead and tell me about it."

He drew up a chair and waited, but the girl smiled rather tremulously.

"Perhaps we'd better wait, if you feel that way, Harvey."

His face was set as he looked at her.

"There's only one thing I want to know," he said. "And I've got a right
to know that. You're a young girl, and you're beautiful--to me, anyhow.
You've been over there with a lot of crazy foreigners." He got up again
and all the bitterness of the empty months was in his voice. "Did any
of them--was there anybody there you cared about?"

"I came back, Harvey."

"That's not the question."

"There were many men--officers--who were kind to me. I--"

"That's not the question, either."

"If I had loved any one more than I loved you I should not have come
back."

"Wait a minute!" he said quickly. "You had to come back, you know."

"I could have stayed. The Englishwoman who took over my work asked me
to stay on and help her."

He was satisfied then. He went back to the arm of her chair and kissed
her.

"All right," he said. "I've suffered the tortures of the damned,
but--that fixes it. Now let's talk about something else. I'm sick of
this war talk."

"I'd like to tell you about my little house. And poor Rene--"

"Who was Rene?" he demanded.

"The orderly."

"The one on the step, with a rifle?"

"Yes."

"Look here," he said. "I've got to get to all that gradually. I don't
know that I'll ever get to it cheerfully. But I can't talk about that
place to-night. And I don't want to talk war. The whole business makes
me sick. I've got a car out of it, and if things keep on we may be able
to get the Leete house. But there's no reason in it, no sense. I'm
sick to death of hearing about it. Let's talk of something else."

But--and here was something strange--Sara Lee could find