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Sara Lee dressed that evening in the white frock She dressed slowly,

thinking hard All round her was the shiny newness of her furniture,

a trifle crowded in Belle's s fastened in by it Wherever she turned it gleamed She felt

surrounded, ss--of the little house,

and of Henri, and of the King, pinning thehands with her Henri she must tell about--not his

name of course, nor his madness, nor even his love But she felt that

she owed it to Harvey to have as few secrets from him as possible She

would tell about what the boy had done for her, and how he, and he alone,

had made it all possible

Surely Harvey would understand It was a page that was closed It had

held nothing to hurt hi And a breath of wind set the leaves

outside to rustling Instantly she was back again in the little house,

and the sound was not leaves, but the shuffling of ht, that shuffling that was so like

the rustling of leaves in a wood or theover a

stony creek bed