"Nothing to do," she looked up, her eyes wide and indignant. "But of
course you would think that. This house runs itself, I suppose."
"Let's be honest, Natalie," he said, with a touch of impatience.
"Actually how much time each day do you give this house? You have plenty
of trained servants. An hour? Two hours?"
"I'll not discuss it with you." She took up a typewritten sheet
and pretended to read it carefully. Clayton had a half-humorous,
half-irritated conviction that if he was actually hunting happiness he
had begun his search for it rather badly. He took the paper from her,
gently.
"What's this?" he inquired. "Anything I should not see?"
"Decorator's estimates for the new house." Her voice was resentful.
"You'll have to see them some time."
"Library curtains, gray Chippendale velvet, gold gimp, faced with
colonial yellow," he read an item picked at random, "two thousand
dollars! That's going some for curtains, isn't it?"
"It's not too much for that sort of thing."
"But, look here, Natalie," he expostulated. "This is to be a country
house, isn't it? I thought you wanted chintzed and homey things. This
looks like a city house in the country."
He glanced down at the total. The hangings alone, with a tapestry or
two, were to be thirty-five thousand dollars. He whistled.
"Hangings alone! And--what sort of a house has Rodney planned, anyhow?"
"Italian, with a sunken garden. The landscape estimates are there, too."
He did not look at them.
"It seems to me you and Rodney have been pretty busy while I've been
away," he remarked. "Well, I want you to be happy, my dear. Only--I
don't want to tie up a fortune just now. We may get into this war, and
if we do--" He rose, and yawned, his arms above his head. "I'm off to
bed," he said. "Big day to-morrow. I'll want Graham at the office at
8:30."
She had sat up in bed, and was staring at him. Her face was pale.
"Do you mean that we are going to get into this war?"
"I think it very likely, my dear."
"But if we do, Graham--"
"We might as well face it. Graham will probably want to go."
"He'll do nothing of the sort," she said sharply. "He's all I have. All.
Do you think I'm going to send him over there to be cannon-fodder? I
won't let him go."