Dangerous Days

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!"