He did not kiss her that night when she and Belle went together up the
stairs. But he stared after her gloomily, with hurt and bewilderment in
his eyes.
He did not understand. He never would. She had come home to him all
gentleness and tenderness, ready to find in him the things she needed so
badly. But out of his obstinacy and hurt he had himself built up a
barrier.
That night Sara Lee dreamed that she was back in the little house of
mercy. Rene was there; and Henri; and Jean, with the patch over his eye.
They were waiting for the men to come, and the narrow hall was full of
the odor of Marie's soup. Then she heard them coming, the shuffling of
many feet on the road. She went to the door, with Henri beside her, and
watched them coming up the road, a deeper shadow in the blackness--tired
men, wounded men, homeless men coming to her little house with its
firelight and its warmth. Here and there the match that lighted a
cigarette showed a white but smiling face. They stopped before the door,
and the warm little house, with its guarded lights and its food and
cheer, took them in.