his wife. He knew who
exactly had sent each basket of flowers, each hanging bunch. "Your
exquisite orchids," he would say; or, "that perfectly charming basket.
It is there, just beside Mrs. Haverford."

But when Natalie Spencer came in alone, splendid in Russian sables, he
happened to be looking at Delight, and he saw the light die out of her
eyes.

Natalie had tried to bring Graham with her. She had gone into his room
that morning while he was dressing and asked him. To tell the truth, she
was uneasy about Marion Hayden and his growing intimacy there.

"You will, won't you, Graham, dear?"

"Sorry, mother. I just can't. I'm taking a girl out."

"I suppose it's Marion."

Her tone caused him to turn and look at her.

"Yes, it's Marion. What's wrong with that?"

"It's so silly, Graham. She's older than you are. And she's not really
nice, Graham. I don't mean anything horrid, but she's designing. She
knows you are young and--well, she's just playing with you. I know
girls, Graham. I--"

She stopped, before his angry gaze.

"She is nice enough for you to ask here," he said hastily.

"She wants your money. That's all."

He had laughed then, an ugly laugh.

"There's a lot of it for her to want."

And Natalie had gone away to shed tears of fury and resentment in her
own room.

She was really frightened. Bills for flowers sent to Marion were coming
in, to lie unpaid on Graham's writing table. She had over-drawn once
again to pay them, and other bills, for theater tickets, checks signed
at restaurants, over-due club accounts.

So she went to the Haverfords alone, and managed very effectually to
snub Mrs. Hayden before the rector's very eyes.

Mrs. Hayden thereupon followed an impulse.

"If it were not for Natalie Spencer," she said, following that lady's
sables with malevolent eyes, "I should be very happy in something I want
to tell you. Can we find a corner somewhere?"

And Doctor Haverford had followed her uneasily, behind some palms. She
was a thin little woman with a maddening habit of drawing her tight veil
down even closer by a contortion of her lower jaw, so that the rector
found himself watching her chin rather than her eyes.

"I want you to know right away, as Marion's clergyman, and ours," she
had said, and had given her jaw a particularly vicious wag and twist.
"Of course it is not announced--I don't believe even the Spencers know
it yet. I am only telling you now because I know how dearly"--