Perhaps, had Clayton Spencer been entirely honest with himself that
night, he would have acknowledged that he had had a vague hope of seeing
Audrey at the club. Cars came up, discharged their muffled occupants
under the awning and drove away again. Delight and Mrs. Haverford
arrived and he danced with Delight, to her great anxiety lest she might
not dance well. Graham came very late, in the wake of Marion Hayden.
But Audrey did not appear.
He waited until the New-year came in. The cotillion was on then, and the
favors for the midnight figure were gilt cornucopias filled with loose
flowers. The lights went out for a moment on the hour, the twelve
strokes were rung on a triangle in the orchestra, and there was a
moment's quiet. Then the light blazed again, flowers and confetti were
thrown, and club servants in livery carried round trays of champagne.
Clayton, standing glass in hand, surveyed the scene with a mixture of
satisfaction and impatience. He found Terry Mackenzie at his elbow.
"Great party, Clay," he said. "Well, here's to 1917, and may it bring
luck."
"May it bring peace," said Clayton, and raised his glass.
Some time later going home in the car with Mrs. Mackenzie, quiet and
slightly grim beside him, Terry spoke out of a thoughtful silence.
"There's something wrong with Clay," he said. "If ever a fellow had a
right to be happy--he has a queer look. Have you noticed it?"
"Anybody married to Natalie Spencer would develop what you call a queer
look," she replied, tartly.
"Don't you think he is in love with her?"
"If you ask me, I think he has reached the point where he can't bear the
sight of her. But he doesn't know it."
"She's pretty."
"So is a lamp-shade," replied Mrs. Terry, acidly. "Or a kitten, or a
fancy ice-cream. But you wouldn't care to be married to them, would
you?"
It was almost dawn when Natalie came in. Clayton had not been asleep.
He had got to thinking rather feverishly of the New-year. Without in any
way making a resolution, he had determined to make it a better year
than the last; to be more gentle with Natalie, more understanding with
Graham; to use his new prosperity wisely; to forget his own lack of
happiness in making others happy. He was very vague about that. The
search of the ages the rector had called happiness, and one found it by
giving it.
To his surprise, Natalie came into his bedroom, looking like some queer
oriental bird, vivid and strangely unlike herself.