you. Not _you_!"

"Why not!" asked Belle practically. "You ought to talk it out to some
one, and if Harvey insists on being a fool that's his own fault."

For all the remainder of that sunny morning Sara Lee talked what was in
her heart. And Belle--poor, romantic, starved Belle--heard and
thrilled. She made buttonholes as she listened, but once or twice a
new tone in Sara Lee's voice caused her to look up. Here was a new
Sara Lee, a creature of vibrant voice and glowing eyes; and Belle was
not stupid. She saw that it was Henri whose name brought the deeper note.

Sara Lee had stopped with her recall, had stopped and looked about the
room with its shiny new furniture and had shivered. Belle bent over her
work.

"Why don't you go back?" she asked.

Sara Lee looked at her piteously.

"How can I? There is Harvey. And the society would not send me again.
It's over, Belle. All over."

After a pause Belle said: "What's become of Henri? He hasn't written,
has he?"

Sara Lee got up and went to the window.

"I don't know where he is. He may be dead."

Her voice was flat and lifeless. Belle knew all that she wanted to know.
She rose and gathered up her sewing.

"I'm going to talk to Harvey. You're not going to be rushed into a
wedding. You're tired, and it's all nonsense. Well, I'll have to run
now and dress the children."

That night Harvey and Belle had almost a violent scene. He had taken
Sara Lee over the Leete house that evening. Will Leete's widow had met
them there, a small sad figure in her mourning, but very composed, until
she opened the door into a tiny room upstairs with a desk and a lamp
in it.

"This was Will's study," she said. "He did his work here in the
evenings, and I sat in that little chair and sewed. I never thought
then--" Her lips quivered.

"Pretty rotten of Will Leete to leave that little thing alone," said
Harvey on their way home. "He had his fling; and she's paying for it."

But Sara Lee was silent. It was useless to try to make Harvey understand
the urge that had called Will Leete across the sea to do his share for
the war, and that had brought him that peace of God that passeth all
understanding.

It was not a good time for Belle to put up to him her suggestion for a
delay in the marriage, that evening after their return. He took it
badly and insisted on sending upstairs for Sara Lee.

"Did you ask Belle to do this?" he demanded bluntly.

"To do what?"

"To put things off."