.

Graham moved restlessly about the room, and Clayton felt that he had
altered lately. He looked older, and not happy. He knew the boy wanted
to talk about Natalie's opposition, but was hoping that he would broach
the subject. And Clayton rather grimly refused to do it. Those next
weeks would show how much of the man there was in Graham, but the
struggle must be between his mother and himself.

He paused, finally.

Marion was singing.

"Give me your love for a day;
A night; an hour.
If the wages of sin are Death
I'm willing to pay."

She sang it in her clear passionless voice. Brave words, Clayton
thought, but there were few who would pay such wages. This girl at the
piano, what did she know of the thing she sang about? What did any of
the young know?

They always construed love in terms of passion. But passion was
ephemeral. Love lived on. Passion took, but love gave.

He roused himself.

"Have you told Marion about the new arrangement?"

"I didn't know whether you cared to have it told."

"Don't you think she ought to know? If she intends to enter the family,
she has a right to know that she is not marrying into great wealth. I
don't suggest," he added, as Graham colored hotly, "that it will make
any difference. I merely feel she ought to know your circumstances."

He was called to the telephone, and when he came back he found them in
earnest conversation. The girl turned toward him smiling.

"Graham has just told me. You are splendid, Mr. Spencer."

And afterward Clayton was forced to admit an element of sincerity in
her voice. She had had a disappointment, but she was very game. Her
admiration surprised him. He was nearer to liking her than he had ever
been.

Even her succeeding words did not quite kill his admiration for her.

"And I have told Graham that he must not let you make all the
sacrifices. Of course he is going to enlist."

She had turned her defeat into a triumph against Natalie. Clayton knew
then that she would never marry Graham. As she went out he followed her
with a faint smile of tribute.

The smile died as he turned to go up the stairs.

Natalie was in her dressing-room. She had not undressed, but was
standing by a window. She made no sign that she heard him enter, and he
hesitated. Why try to talk things out with her? Why hurt her? Why not
let things drift along? There was no hope of bettering them. One of
two things he must do, either tear open