That is how Henri, of no other name that may be given, met Sara Lee
Kennedy, of Pennsylvania--under a London motor bus. And that, I think,
will be the picture he carries of her until he dies, her soft eyes full
of pity, utterly regardless of the dirt and the crowd and an
expostulating bobby, with that grotesque and agonized head on her knees.
Henri crawled under the bus, though the policeman was extremely anxious
to keep him out. And he ran a practiced eye over the injured donkey.
"It's dying," said Sara Lee with white lips.
"It will die," replied Henri, "but how soon? They are very strong,
these little beasts."
The conductor of the bus made a suggestion then, one that froze the
blood round Sara Lee's heart: "If you'll move away and let us run over
it proper it'll be out of its trouble, miss."
Sara Lee raised haggard eyes to Henri.
"Did you hear that?" she said. "They'd do it too!"
The total result of a conference between four policemen, the costermonger,
and, by that time, Mr. Travers--was to draw the animal off the street
and into the square. Sara Lee stuck close by. So, naturally, did
Henri. And when the hopeless condition of Nellie, as they learned she
was named, became increasingly evident, Henri behaved like a man and a
soldier.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59