Henri stood with folded arms and listened.  At first he said nothing.  When he spoke it was in a voice of ominous calm: 

“So for a stupid convention he would destroy this beautiful thing you have made!  Does he know your work?  Does he know what you are to the men here?  Have you ever told him?”

“I have, of course, but—­”

“Do you want to go back?”

“No, Henri.  Not yet.  I—­”

“That is enough.  You are needed.  You are willing to stay.  I shall attend to the money.  It is arranged.”

“You don’t understand,” said Sara Lee desperately.  “I am engaged to him.  I can’t wreck his life, can I?”

“Would it wreck your life?” he demanded.  “Tell me that and I shall know how to reason with you.”

But she only looked at him helplessly.

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 Rene 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?”