He put the fragments of the sketch in his pocket.

"How long is this blockade to last?" Sara Lee asked out of bitter

disappointment.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Who can say? A week! A year! Not at all!"

"Then," said Sara Lee with calm deliberation, "you might as well get out

your pencil and draw another picture--because I'm going."

Far enough away now, the little house at home and the peace that dwelt

therein; and Harvey; and the small white bedroom; and the daily round of

quiet duties. Sara Lee had set her face toward the east, and the land

of dying men. And as Henri looked down at her she had again that poised

and eager look, almost of flight, that had brought into Harvey's love

for her just a touch of fear.




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