"

"It's town talk, my dear. Doctor Haverford spoke to Clayton about it
some days ago. He rather gathered Clayton already knew."

That, too, was like dear Clayton, Natalie reflected bitterly. He had
told her nothing. In her heart she added secretiveness to the long list
of Clayton's deficiencies toward her.

"Personally, I imagine they were heavily in debt," Mrs. Haverford went
on. "They had been living beyond their means, of course. I like Mrs.
Valentine, but I do think, to drive a man to his death, or what may be
his death--"

"I don't believe it. I don't believe he went to fight, anyway. He was
probably in some sort of a scrape."

"She has sold her house."

Natalie's impulse of sympathy toward Audrey was drowned in her rising
indignation. That all this could happen and Audrey not let her know was
incredible.

"I haven't seen her recently," she said coldly.

"Nobody has. I do think she might have seen her clergyman. There is a
time when only the church can give us the comfort we need, my dear."

And whatever Mrs. Haverford's faults, she meant that quite simply.

"And you say Clay knew?"

"It's rather likely he would. They were golfing together, weren't they,
when that caddie was hurt?"

Natalie was not a jealous woman. She had, for years, taken Clay's
faithfulness for granted, and her own complacency admitted no chance of
such a possibility. But she was quick to realize that she had him at a
disadvantage.

"How long have you known it?" she asked him that night, when, after the
long dinner was over, she sat with her elbows on the table and faced him
across the candles.

He was tired and depressed, and his fine face looked drawn. But he
roused and smiled across at her. He had begun to have a feeling that he
must make up to Natalie for something--he hardly knew for what.

"Known what, dear?"

"About Chris and Audrey?"

He was fundamentally honest, so he answered her directly.

"Since the day Chris left."

"When was that?"

"The day we dined there."

"And Audrey told you?"

"She had to, in a way. I'm sure she'll tell you herself. She's been
rather hiding away, I imagine."

"Why did she have to tell you?"

"If you want the exact truth, she borrowed a small sum from me, as the
banks were closed, naturally. There was some emergency--I don't know
what."

"She borrowed from you!"

"A very small amount, my dear. Don't look like that, Natalie. She knew I
generally carried money with me."

"