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.