t staring absently into it.

"It was for Graham," she said at last. "We were going to have week-end
parties, and all sorts of young people. But now!"

"What about now?"

Natalie raised tragic eyes to hers.

"He's probably going into the army. He'd have never thought of it, but
Clayton shows in every possible way that he thinks he ought to go. What
is the boy to do? His father driving him to what may be his death!"

"I don't think he'd do that, Natalie."

Natalie laughed, her little mirthless laugh.

"Much you know what his father would do! I'll tell you this, Audrey.
If Graham goes, and anything--happens to him, I'll never forgive Clay.
Never."

Audrey had not suspected such depths of feeling as Natalie's eyes
showed under their penciled brows. They were desperate, vindictive eyes.
Suddenly Natalie was pleading with her.

"You'll talk to Clay, won't you? He'll listen to you. He has a lot of
respect for your opinion. I want you to go to him, Audrey. I brought you
here to ask you. I'm almost out of my mind. Why do you suppose I play
around with Rodney? I've got to forget, that's all. And I've tried
everything I know, and failed. He'll go, and I'll lose him, and if I do
it will kill me."

"It doesn't follow that because he goes he won't come back."

"He'll be in danger. I shall be worrying about him every moment." She
threw out her hands in what was as unrestrained a gesture as she ever
made. "Look at me!" she cried. "I'm getting old under it. I have lines
about my eyes already. I hate to look at myself in the morning. And I'm
not old. I ought to be at my best now."

Natalie's anxiety was for Graham, but her pity was for herself. Audrey's
heart hardened.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't go to Clay. I feel as I think he does.
If Graham wants to go, he should be free to do it. You're only hurting
him, and your influence on him, by holding him back."

"You've never had a child."

"If I had, and he wanted to go, I should be terrified, but I should be
proud."

"You and Clay! You even talk alike. It's all a pose, this exalted
attitude. Even this war is a pose. It's a national attitude we've
struck, a great nation going to rescue humanity, while the rest of the
world looks on and applauds! It makes me ill."

She turned and went back to the house, leaving Audrey by the
swimming-pool. She sat on the edge of one of the stone benches, feeling
utterly dreary and sad. To make a sacrifice for a worthy object was on