"but of course you understand that only trained workers are needed now.
France and England are full of untrained women who are eager to help."

It was that night that Sara Lee became engaged to Harvey.

Sara Lee's attitude toward Harvey was one that she never tried to analyze.
When he was not with her she thought of him tenderly, romantically. This
was perhaps due to the photograph of him on her mantel. There was a dash
about the picture rather lacking in the original, for it was a profile,
and in it the young man's longish hair, worn pompadour, the slight thrust
forward of the head, the arch of the nostrils,--gave him a sort of tense
eagerness, a look of running against the wind. From the photograph
Harvey might have been a gladiator; as a matter of fact he was a bond
salesman.

So during the daytime Sara Lee looked--at intervals--at the photograph,
and got that feel of drive and force. And in the evenings Harvey came,
and she lost it. For, outside of a frame, he became a rather sturdy
figure, of no romance, but of a comforting solidity. A kindly young man,
with a rather wide face and hands disfigured as to fingers by much early
baseball. He had heavy shoulders, the sort a girl might rely on to
carry many burdens. A younger and tidier Uncle James, indeed--the same
cheery manner, the same robust integrity, and the same small ambition.

To earn enough to keep those dependent on him, and to do it fairly;
to tell the truth and wear clean linen and not run into debt; and to
marry Sara Lee and love and cherish her all his life--this was Harvey.
A plain and likable man, a lover and husband to be sure of. But--

He came that night to see Sara Lee. There was nothing unusual about