"I often come here," he explained. "The food is good, if you like
Italian cooking. And it is near my work. I--"
But Audrey was not listening. At a corner, far back, Natalie and Rodney
were sitting, engrossed in each other. Natalie's back was carefully
turned to the room, but there was no mistaking her. Audrey wanted madly
to get away, but the coffee had come and the young clergyman was talking
gentle platitudes in a rather sweet but monotonous voice. Then Rodney
saw her, and bowed.
Almost immediately afterward she heard the soft rustle that was Natalie,
and found them both beside her.
"Can we run you up-town?" Natalie asked. "That is, unless--"
She glanced at the clergyman.
"Thank you, no, Natalie. I'm going to have some supper first."
Natalie was uneasy. Audrey made no move to present the clergyman, whose
name she did not know. Rodney was looking slightly bored.
"Odd little place, isn't it?" Natalie offered after a second's silence.
"Rather quaint, I think."
Natalie made a desperate effort to smooth over an awkward situation. She
turned to the clergyman.
"We heard you speaking. It was quite thrilling."
He smiled a little.
"Not so thrilling as this lady. She carried the crowd, absolutely."
Natalie turned and stared at Audrey, who was flushed with annoyance.
"You!" she said. "Do you mean to say you have been talking from that
wagon?"
"I haven't said it. But I have."
"For heaven's sake!" Then she laughed and glanced at Rodney. "Well,
if you won't tell on me, I'll not tell on you." And then seeing Audrey
straighten, "I don't mean that, of course. Clay's at a meeting to-night,
so I am having a holiday."
She moved on, always with the soft rustle, leaving behind her a delicate
whiff of violets and a wide-eyed clergyman, who stared after her
admiringly.
"What a beautiful woman!" he said. There was a faint regret in his
voice that Audrey had not presented him, and he did not see that her
coffee-cup trembled as she lifted it to her lips.
At ten o'clock the next morning Natalie called her on the 'phone.
Natalie's morning voice was always languid, but there was a trace of
pleading in it now.
"It's a lovely day," she said. "What are you doing?"
"I've been darning."
"You! Darning!"
"I rather like it."
"Heavens, how you've changed! I suppose you wouldn't do anything so
frivolous as to go out with me to the new house."