And he had drawn for her such a picture of
Albert of Belgium as she was never to forget.
Perhaps Sara Lee's real growth began that night, over that simple dinner
at the Hotel des Arcades.
"I wish," she said at last, "that Uncle James could have heard all this.
He was always so puzzled about it all. And--you make it so clear."
When dinner was over a bit of tension had relaxed in her somewhat. She
had been too close, for too long. And when a group of Belgian officers,
learning who she was, asked to be presented and gravely thanked her, she
flushed with happiness.
"We must see if mademoiselle shall not have a medal," said the only one
who spoke English.
"A medal? For what?"
"For courage," he said, bowing. "Belgium has little to give, but it can
at least do honor to a brave lady."
Jean was smiling when they passed on. What a story would this slip of a
girl take home with her!
But: "I don't think I want a medal, Jean," she said. "I didn't come for
that. And after all it is you and Henri who have done the thing--not I."
Accustomed to women of a more sophisticated class, Jean had at first
taken her naivete for the height of subtlety.
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