A sense of unreality was growing on Sara Lee. That she should be alone
in France with a man she had never seen three days before; that she knew
nothing whatever about that man; that, for the present at least, she was
utterly and absolutely dependent on him, even for the food she ate--it
was all of a piece with the night's voyage and the little room at the
Savoy. And it was none of it real.

When the breakfast tray came Henri was again at the window and silent.
And Sara Lee saw that it was laid for two. She was a little startled,
but the businesslike way in which the young officer drew up two chairs
and held one out for her made protest seem absurd. And the flat-faced
boy, who waited, looked unshocked and uninterested.

It was not until she had had some coffee that Henri followed up his
line of thought.

"So--the fiance did not approve? It is not difficult to understand.
There is always danger, for there are German aëroplanes even in remote
places. And you are very young. You still wish to establish yourself,
mademoiselle?"

"Of course!"

"Would it be a comfort to cable your safe arrival in France to the
fiancé?" When he saw her face he smiled. And if it was a rather heroic
smile it was none the less friendly. "I see. What shall I say? Or
will you write it?"

So Sara Lee, vastly cheered by two cups of coffee, an egg, and a very
considerable portion of bread and butter, wrote her cable. It was to