Long, long afterward Sara Lee found a quite delightful breakfast
hidden between two pages that were stuck together. But it was then far
too late.
"Donnez-moi," began Sara Lee, and turned the pages rapidly, "this; do
you see?" She had found roast beef.
The boy observed stolidly, in French, that it was not ready until noon.
She was able to make out, from his failing to depart, that there was no
roast beef.
"Good gracious!" she said, ravenous and exasperated. "Go and get me
some bread and coffee, anyhow." She repeated it, slightly louder.
That was the tableau that Henri found when, after a custom that may be
war or may be Continental, he had inquired the number of her room and
made his way there.
There was a twinkle in his blue eyes as he bowed before her--and a vast
relief too.
"So you are here!" he said in a tone of satisfaction. He had put in an
extremely bad night, even for him, by whom nights were seldom wasted in
a bed. While he was with her something of her poise had communicated
itself to him. He had felt the confidence, in men and affairs, that
American girls are given as a birthright. And her desire for service
he had understood as a year or two ago he could not have understood.
But he had stood by the rail staring north, and cursing himself for
having placed her in danger during the entire crossing.
There was nothing about him that morning, however to show his bad
hours. He was debonnaire and smiling.
"I am famishing," said Sara Lee. "And there are no eggs in this
book--none whatever."
"Eggs! You wish eggs?"
"I just want food. Almost anything will do. I asked for eggs because
they can come quickly."
Henri turned to the boy and sent him off with a rapid order. Then:
"May I come in?" he said.
Sara Lee cast an uneasy glance over the room. It was extremely tidy,
and unmistakably it was a bedroom. But though her color rose she asked
him in. After all, what did it matter? To have refused would have
looked priggish, she said to herself. And as a matter of fact one of
the early lessons she learned in France was learned that morning--that
though convention had had to go, like many other things in the war, men
who were gentlemen ignored its passing.
Henri came in and stood by the center table.
"Now, please tell me," he said. "I have been most uneasy. On the quay
last night you looked--frightened."