"I'm going to talk to Harvey. You're not going to be rushed into a
wedding. You're tired, and it's all nonsense. Well, I'll have to run
now and dress the children."
That night Harvey and Belle had almost a violent scene. He had taken
Sara Lee over the Leete house that evening. Will Leete's widow had met
them there, a small sad figure in her mourning, but very composed, until
she opened the door into a tiny room upstairs with a desk and a lamp
in it.
"This was Will's study," she said. "He did his work here in the
evenings, and I sat in that little chair and sewed. I never thought
then--" Her lips quivered.
"Pretty rotten of Will Leete to leave that little thing alone," said
Harvey on their way home. "He had his fling; and she's paying for it."
But Sara Lee was silent. It was useless to try to make Harvey understand
the urge that had called Will Leete across the sea to do his share for
the war, and that had brought him that peace of God that passeth all
understanding.
It was not a good time for Belle to put up to him her suggestion for a
delay in the marriage, that evening after their return. He took it
badly and insisted on sending upstairs for Sara Lee.
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