Heavy tramping in the passage told of the arrival of the first men. They did not talk and laugh as usual. As well as they could they came quietly. For René had been a good friend to many of them, and had admitted on slack nights many a weary man who had no ticket. Much as the neighbors had entered the house back home after Uncle James had gone away, came these bearded men that night. And Sara Lee, hearing their muffled voices, brushed a hand over her eyes and tried to smile. "We can talk about it later," she said. "We mustn't quarrel. I owe so much to you, Henri." Suddenly Henri caught her by the arm and turned her about so that she faced the lamp. "Do you love him?" he demanded. "Sara Lee, look at me!" Only he pronounced it Saralie. "He has done a very cruel thing. Do you still love him?" Sara Lee shut her eyes. "I don't know. I think I do. He is very unhappy, and it is my fault." "Your fault!" "I must go, Henri. The men are waiting." But he still held her arm. "Does he love you as I love you?" he demanded. "Would he die for you?" "That's rather silly, isn't it? Men don't die for the people they love." "I would die for you, Saralie." She eyed him rather helplessly. "I don't think you mean that." Bad strategy that, for he drew her to him. His arms were like steel, and it was a rebellious and very rigid Sara Lee who found she could not free herself. "I would die for you, Saralie!" he repeated fiercely. "That would be easier, far, than living without you. There is nothing that matters but you. Listen--I would put everything I have--my honor, my life, my hope of eternity--on one side of the scale and you on the other. And I would choose you. Is that love?" He freed her. "It's insanity," said Sara Lee angrily. "You don't mean it. And I don't want that kind of love, if that is what you call it." "And you will go back to that man who loves himself better than he loves you?" "That's not true!" she flashed at him. "He is sending for me, not to get me back to him, but to get me back to safety." "What sort of safety?" Henri demanded in an ominous tone. "Is he afraid of me?" "He doesn't know anything about you." "You have never told him? Why?" His eyes narrowed. "He wouldn't have understood, Henri." "You are going back to him," he said slowly; "and you will always keep these days of ours buried in your heart. Is that it?" His eyes softened. "I am to be a memory! Do you know what I think? I think you care for me more than you know. We have lived a lifetime together in these months. You know me better than you know him, already. We have faced death together. That is a strong tie. And I have held you in my arms. Do you think you can forget that?" "I shall never want to forget you."