"This was Will's study," she said. "He did his work here in the evenings, and I sat in that little chair and sewed. I never thought then—" Her lips quivered.
"Pretty rotten of Will Leete to leave that little thing alone," said Harvey on their way home. "He had his fling; and she's paying for it."
But Sara Lee was silent. It was useless to try to make Harvey understand the urge that had called Will Leete across the sea to do his share for the war, and that had brought him that peace of God that passeth all understanding.
It was not a good time for Belle to put up to him her suggestion for a delay in the marriage, that evening after their return. He took it badly and insisted on sending upstairs for Sara Lee.
"Did you ask Belle to do this?" he demanded bluntly.
"To do what?"
"To put things off."
"I have already told you, Harvey," Belle put in. "It is my own idea. She is tired. She's been through a lot. I've heard the story you're too stubborn to listen to. And I strongly advise her to wait a while."
And after a time he agreed ungraciously. He would buy the house and fix it over, and in the early fall it would be ready.
"Unless," he added to Sara Lee with a bitterness born of disappointment—"unless you change your mind again."