A Sheraton sideboard was art. Even certain forms of Colonial mahogany
were art, although he was not fond of them. And Natalie was--art. Even
if she represented the creative instincts of her dressmaker and her
milliner, and not her own--he did not like a Louis XV sofa the less that
it had not carved itself.
Possibly Natalie appealed then to his collective instinct, he had not
analyzed it. He only knew that he liked being with her, and he was not
annoyed, certainly, by the fact that he knew their constant proximity
was arousing a certain amount of comment.
So: "You are very beautiful," he said with his appraising glance full on
her. "You are quite the loveliest woman I know."
"Still? With a grown son?"
"I am not a boy myself, you know."
"What has that to do with it?"
He hesitated, then laughed a little.
"I don't know," he said. "I didn't mean to say that, exactly. Of course,
that fact is that I'm rather glad you are not a debutante. You would be
giving me odds and ends of dances if you were, you know, and shifting me
as fast as possible. As it is--"
The coquetry which is a shallow woman's substitute for passion stirred
in her.
"Well? I'm awfully interested."
He turned and faced her.
"I wonder if you are!"
"Go on, Roddie. As it is??"
"As it is," he said, rather rapidly, "you give me a great deal of
happiness. I can't say all I would like to, but just being with
you--Natalie, I wonder if you know how much it means to me to see you
every day."
"I like it, or I wouldn't do it."
"But--I wonder if it means anything to you?"
Curiously enough, with the mere putting it into words, his feeling for
her seemed to grow. He was even somewhat excited. He bent toward her,
his eyes on her face, and caught one of her gloved hands. He was no
longer flirting with a pretty woman. He was in real earnest. But Natalie
was still flirting.
"Do you want to know why I like to be with you? Because of course I do,
or I shouldn't be."
"Does a famishing man want water?"
"Because you are sane and sensible. You believe, as I do, in going on
as normally as possible. All these people who go around glooming because
there is a war across the Atlantic! They are so tiresome. Good heavens,
the hysterical attitude of some women! And Clay!"