"For every life lost I am responsible," he ended in a flat and lifeless tone.
"But you might not have known," she protested wildly. "Even if you had been there, Henri, you might not have known." She knew something of war by that time. "How could you have told that a small movement of troops was to take place?"
"I should have been there."
"But—if they came without warning?"
"I did not tell you," he said, looking away from her. "There had been a warning. I disregarded it."
He went back to Belgium that night. Sara Lee, at the last, held out her hand. She was terrified for him, and she showed it.
"I shall not touch your hand," he said. "I have forfeited my right to do that." Then, seeing what was in her face, he reassured her. "I shall not do that," he said. "It would be easier. But I shall have to go back and see what can be done."
He was the old Henri to the last, however. He went carefully over her steamship ticket, and inquired with equal care into the amount of money she had.
"It will take you home?" he asked.
"Very comfortably, Henri."