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.