She was lavish with money--but never with herself.
In the weeks after the opening of the new year Clayton found himself
watching her. He wondered sometimes just what went on in her mind during
the hours when she sat, her hands folded, gazing into space. He could
not tell. He surmised her planning, always planning; the new house, a
gown, a hat, a party.
But late in January he began to think that she was planning something
else. Old Terry Mackenzie had been there one night, and he had
asserted not only that war was coming, but that we would be driven to
conscription to raise an army.
"They've all had to come to it," he insisted. "And we will, as sure as
God made little fishes. You can't raise a million volunteers for a war
that's three thousand miles away."
"You mean, conscription among the laboring class?" Natalie had asked
naively, and there had been a roar of laughter.
"Not at all," Terry had said. And chuckled. "This war, if it comes, is
every man's burden, rich and poor. Only the rich will give most, because
they have most to give."
"I think that's ridiculous," Natalie had said.
It was after that that Clayton began to wonder what she was planning.
He came home late one afternoon to find that they were spending the
evening in, and to find a very serious Natalie waiting, when he came
down-stairs dressed for dinner. She made an effort to be conversational,
but it was a failure. He was uneasily aware that she was watching him,
inspecting, calculating, choosing her moment. But it was not until they
were having coffee that she spoke.
"I'm uneasy about Graham, Clay."
He looked up quickly.
"Yes?"
"I think he ought to go away somewhere."
"He ought to stay here, and make a man of himself," he came out, almost
in spite of himself. He knew well enough that such a note always roused
Natalie's antagonism, and he waited for the storm. But none came.
"He's not doing very well, is he?"
"He's not failing entirely. But he gives the best of himself outside the
mill. That's all."
She puzzled him. Had she heard of Marion?
"Don't you think, if he was away from this silly crowd he plays with, as
he calls it, that he would be better off?"
"Where, for instance?"
"You keep an agent in England. He could go there. Or to Russia, if the
Russian contract goes through."