At twenty-five she already noticed a change in the personnel of her

followers. The unmarried men who had danced with her during her first

two winters were now sending flowers to the debutantes, and cutting in

on the younger men at balls. Her house was still a rendezvous, but it

was for couples like the ones who had preempted the drawing-room, the

library and the music room that afternoon. They met there, smoked her

cigarets, made love in a corner, occasionally became engaged. But she

was of the game, no longer in it.

Men still came to see her, a growing percentage of them married. They

brought or sent her tribute, flowers, candy, and cigarets. She was

enormously popular at dances. But more and more her dinner invitations

were from the older crowd. Like Natalie Spencer's stupid party the night

before.

So she watched Graham and listened. He was a nice boy and a handsome

one. Also he promised to be sole heir to a great business. If the war

only lasted long enough-"Imagine your knowing all those things," she said admiringly. "You're a

partner, aren't you?"

He flushed slightly.

"Not yet. But of course I shall be."

"When you really get going, I wonder if you will take me round and show

me how shells are made. I'm the most ignorant person you ever knew."

"I'll be awfully glad to."

"Very well. For that promise you shall have a highball. You're an awful

dear, you know."

She placed a slim hand on his shoulder and patted it. Then, leaning

rather heavily on him for support, she got to her feet.

"We'll go in and stir up some of the lovers," she suggested. "And if

Tommy Hale hasn't burned up the piano we can dance a bit. You dance

divinely, you know."

It was after seven when he reached home. He felt every inch a man. He

held himself very straight as he entered the house, and the boyish

grin with which he customarily greeted the butler had given place to a

dignified nod.

Natalie was in her dressing-room. At his knock she told the maid to

admit him, and threw a dressing-gown over her bare shoulders. Then she

sent the maid away and herself cautiously closed the door into Clayton's

room.

"I've got the money for you, darling," she said. From her jewel case she

took a roll of bills and held them out to him. "Five hundred."

"I hate to take it, mother."

"Never mind about taking it. Pay those bills before your father learns

about them. That's all."




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