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before； face down on her bed。
… Page 167…
THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
CHAPTER XXIV
It was early in June when at last the lights went down behind the back
drop and came up in front； to show Sara Lee knitting again； though not by
the fire。 The amazing interlude was over。
Over； except in Sara Lee's heart。 The voyage had been a nightmare。
She had been ill for one thing … a combination of seasickness and
heartsickness。 She had allowed Henri to come to England with her； and the
Germans had broken through。 All the good she had done … and she had
helped … was nothing to this mischief she had wrought。
It had been a small raid。 She gathered that from the papers on board。
But that was not the vital thing。 What mattered was that she had let a man
forget his duty to his country in his solicitude for her。
But as the days went on the excitement of her return dulled the edge of
her misery somewhat。 The thing was done。 She could do only one thing to
help。 She would never go back； never again bring trouble and suffering
where she had meant only to bring aid and comfort。
She had a faint hope that Harvey would meet her at the pier。 She
needed comforting and soothing； and perhaps a bit of praise。 She was so
very tired； depressed； too； if the truth be known。 She needed a hand to lead
her back to her old place on the stage； and kind faces to make her forget
that she had ever gone away。
Because that was what she had to do。 She must forget Henri and the
little house on the road to the poplar trees； and most of all； she must forget
that because of her Henri had let the Germans through。
But Harvey did not meet her。 There was a telegram saying he would
meet her train if she wired when she was leaving … an exultant message
breathing forgiveness and signed 〃with much love。〃 She flushed when she
read it。
Of course he could not meet her in New York。 This was not the
Continent in wartime； where convention had died of a great necessity。 And
he was not angry； after all。 A great wave of relief swept over her。 But it
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
was odd how helpless she felt。 Since her arrival in England months before
there had always been Henri to look after things for her。 It was incredible
to recall how little she had done for herself。
Was she glad to be back？ She did not ask herself。 It was as though the
voyage had automatically detached her from that other Sara Lee of the
little house。 That was behind her； a dream … a mirage … or a memory。 Here；
a trifle confused by the bustle； was once again the Sara Lee who had
knitted for Anna； and tended the plants in the dining…room window； and
watched Uncle James slowly lowered into his quiet grave。
Part of her detachment was voluntary。 She could not bear to remember。
She had but to close her eyes to see Henri's tragic face that last night at
Morley's。 And part of the detachment was because； after all； the interlude
had been but a matter of months； and reaching out familiar hands to her
were the habits and customs and surroundings of all the earlier years of
her life； drawing her back to them。
It was strange how Henri's face haunted her。 She could close her eyes
and see it； line by line； his very swagger … for he did swagger； just a little；
his tall figure and unruly hair； his long； narrow； muscular hands。 Strange
and rather uncomfortable。 Because she could not summon Harvey's image
at all。 She tried to bring before her； that night in the train speeding west；
his solid figure and kind eyes as they would greet her the next day … tried；
and failed。 All she got was the profile of the photograph； and the stubborn
angle of the jaw。
She was up very early the next morning； and it was then； as the train
rolled through familiar country； that she began to find Harvey again。 A
flush of tenderness warmed her。 She must be very kind to him because of
all that he had suffered。
The train came to a stop。 Rather breathless Sara Lee went out on the
platform。 Harvey was there； in the crowd。 He did not see her at first。 He
was looking toward the front of the train。 So her first glimpse of him was
the view of the photograph。 His hat was off； and his hair； carefully brushed
back； gave him the eager look of the picture。
He was a strong and manly figure； as unlike Henri as an oak is unlike
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THE AMAZING INTERLUDE
one of Henri's own tall and swaying poplars。 Sara Lee drew a long breath。
Here after all were rest and peace； love and gentleness； quiet days and still
evenings。 No more crowds and wounds and weary men； no more great
thunderings of guns； no imminence of death。 Rest and peace。
Then Harvey saw her； and the gleam of happiness and relief in his eyes
made her own eyes misty。 She saw even in that first glance that he looked
thinner and older。 A pang of remorse shot through her。 Was happiness
always bought at the cost of happiness？ Did one always take away in order
to give？ Not in so many words； but in a flash of doubt the thought went
through her mind。
There was no reserve in Harvey's embrace。 He put his arms about her
and held her close。 He did not speak at first。 Then：
〃My own little girl；〃 he said。 〃My own little girl！〃
Suddenly Sara Lee was very happy。 All her doubts were swept away
by his voice； his arms。 There was no thrill for her in his caress； but there
were peace and quiet joy。 It was enough for her； just then； that she had
brought back some of the happiness she had robbed him of。
〃Oh； Harvey！〃 she said。 〃I'm glad to be back again … with you。〃
He held her off then and looked at her。
〃You are thin；〃 he said。 〃You're not pale； but you are thin。〃 And in a
harder voice： 〃What did they do to you over there？〃
But he did not wait for a reply。 He did not seem to want one。 He
picked up her bag； and guiding her by the elbow； piloted her through the
crowd。
〃A lot of folks wanted to come and meet you；〃 he said； 〃but I steered
them off。 You'd have thought Roosevelt was coming to town the way
they've been calling up。〃
〃To meet me？〃
〃I expect the Ladies' Aid Society wanted to get into the papers again；〃
he said rather grimly。 〃They are merry little advertisers； all right。〃
〃I don't think that； Harvey。〃
〃Well； I do；〃 he said； and brought her to a stop facing a smart little car；
very new； very gay。
… Page 170…