Dangerous Days

"That is a cruel misstatement, Natalie. She did nothing of the sort."

"You needn't bite me, you know. He went, and had about as much interest

in this war as--as--"

"As you have," he finished. And had gone out, leaving Natalie staring

after him.

He was more careful after that, but the situation galled him. He was no

hypocrite, but there was no need of wounding Natalie unnecessarily. And

that, after all, was the crux of the whole situation. Natalie. It was

not Natalie's fault that he had found the woman of his heart too late.

He had no thought of blame for her. In decency, there was only one thing

to do. He could not play the lover to her, but then he had not done that

for a very long time. He could see, however, that she was not hurt.

Perhaps, in all her futile life, Natalie had, for all her complaining,

never been so content in her husband as in those early spring months

when she had completely lost him. He made no demands whatever. In

the small attentions, which he had never neglected, he was even more

assiduous. He paid her ever-increasing bills without comment. He

submitted, in those tense days when every day made the national

situation more precarious, to hours of discussion as to the country

house, to complaints as to his own lack of social instinct, and to that

new phase of her attitude toward Marion Hayden that left him baffled and

perplexed.

Then, on the Sunday when he left Graham and Marion together at the

house, he met Audrey quite by accident in the park. He was almost

incredulous at first. She came like the answer to prayer, a little tired

around the eyes, showing the strain of the past weeks, but with that

same easy walk and unconscious elegance that marked her, always.

She was not alone. There was a tall blonde girl beside her, hideously

dressed, but with a pleasant, shallow face. Just before they met Audrey

stopped and held out her hand.

"Then you'll let me know, Clare?"

"Thank you. I will, indeed, Mrs. Valentine."

With a curious glance at Clayton the girl went on. Audrey smiled at him.

"Please don't run!" she said. "There are people looking. It would be so

conspicuous."

"Run!" he replied. He stood looking down at her, and at something in his

eyes her smile died.

"It's too wonderful, Clay."

For a moment he could not speak. After all those weeks of hunger for her

there was no power in him to dissemble. He felt a mad, boyish impulse to

hold out his arms to her, Malacca stick, gloves, and all!