Henri sat on his sofa and watched Sara Lee. Also he shamelessly listened

to the conversation, not because he meant to be an eavesdropper but

because he liked Sara Lee's voice. He had expected a highly inflected

British voice, and instead here was something entirely different--that

is, Sara Lee's endeavor to reconcile the English "a" with her normal

western Pennsylvania pronunciation. She did it quite unintentionally,

but she had a good ear and it was difficult, for instance, to say

"rather" when Mr. Travers said "rawther."

Henri had a good ear too. And the man he was waiting for did not come.

Also he had been to school in England and spoke English rather better

than most British. So he heard a conversation like this, the gaps being

what he lost: MR. TRAVERS: ---- to France, anyhow. After that ---SARA LEE: Awfully sorry to be ---- But what shall I do if I do get over?

The chambermaid up-stairs ---- very difficult.

MR. TRAVERS: The proper and sensible thing is ---- home.

SARA LEE: To America? But I haven't done anything yet.

Henri knew that she was an American. He also realized that she was on

the verge of tears. He glared at poor Mr. Travers, who was doing his

best, and lighted a French cigarette.

"There must be some way," said Sara Lee. "If they need help--and I

have read you Mabel Andrews' letter--then I should think they'd be

glad to send me."

"They would be, of course," he said. "But the fact is--there's been

some trouble about spies, and--"

Henri's eyes narrowed.

"Spies! And they think I'm a spy?"

"My dear child," remonstrated Mr. Travers, slightly exasperated,

"they're not thinking about you at all. The War Office has never heard

of you. It's a general rule."

Sara Lee was not placated.

"Let them cable home and find out about me. I can give them references.

Why, all sorts of prominent people are sending me money. They must

trust me, or they wouldn't."

There were no gaps for Henri now. Sara Lee did not care who heard her,

and even Mr. Travers had slightly raised his voice. Henri was divided

between a conviction that he ought to go away and a mad desire to join

in the conversation, greatly augmented when Sara Lee went to the window

and wiped her eyes.

"If you only spoke French--" began Mr. Travers.

Sara Lee looked over her shoulder. "But of course I do!" she said.

"And German and--and Yiddish, and all sorts of languages. Every spy

does."




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