Sara Lee stood there for a moment after he had gone. He was right, or

at least he had been within his rights. She had never even heard of the

new doctrine of liberty for women. There was nothing in her training to

teach her revolt. She was engaged to Harvey; already, potentially, she

belonged to him. He had interfered with her life, but he had had the

right to interfere.

And also there was in the back of her mind a feeling that was almost

guilt. She had let Henri tell her he loved her. She had even kissed

him. And there had been many times in the little house when Harvey, for

days at a time, had not even entered her thoughts. There was, therefore,

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a very real tenderness in the face she lifted for his good-by kiss.

To Belle in the front hall Harvey gave a firm order.

"Don't let any reporters in," he said warningly. "This is strictly our

affair. It's a private matter. It's nobody's business what she did over

there. She's home. That's all that matters."

Belle assented, but she was uneasy. She knew that Harvey was

unreasonably, madly jealous of Sara Lee's work at the little house of

mercy, and she knew him well enough to know that sooner or later he would

show that jealousy. She felt, too, that the girl should have been

allowed her small triumph without interference. There had been

interference enough already. But it was easier to yield to Harvey than

to argue with him.

It was rather a worried Belle who served tea that afternoon in her dining

room, with Mrs. Gregory pouring; the more uneasy, because already she

divined a change in Sara Lee. She was as lovely as ever, even lovelier.

But she had a poise, a steadiness, that were new; and silences in which,

to Belle's shrewd eyes, she seemed to be weighing things.

Reporters clamored to see Sara Lee that day, and, failing to see her,

telephoned Harvey at his office to ask if it was true that she had been

decorated by the King. He was short to the point of affront.

"I haven't heard anything about it," he snapped. "And I wouldn't say if

I had. But it's not likely. What d'you fellows think she was doing

anyhow? Leading a charge? She was running a soup kitchen. That's all."

He hung up the receiver with a jerk, but shortly after that he fell to

pacing his small office. She had not said anything about being decorated,

but the reporters had said it had been in a London newspaper. If she

had not told him that, there were probably many things she had not told

him. But of course there had been very little time. He would see if

she mentioned it that night.