and
may never come back. I needed you, and you said once that when I needed
you, wherever you were, you would come. So I sent for you, and now you
act like--like Clay."

"Have you any one here?"

"The servants. Good gracious, Rodney, are you worrying about that?"

"Only for you, Natalie."

"We resent anything that reflects on a name we respect rather highly."
That was what Nolan had said.

"I'm sorry about Graham, dearest. I am sorry about any trouble that
comes to you. You know that, Natalie. I'm only regretful that you have
let me place you in an uncomfortable position. If my being here is
known--Look here, Natalie, dear, I hate to bother you, but I'll have to
take one of the cars and go back to the city to-night."

"Aren't you being rather absurd?"

He hesitated. He could not tell her of that awkward talk with Nolan.
There were many things he would not tell her; his own desire to
rehabilitate himself among the men he knew, his own new-born feeling
that to take advantage of Clayton's absence on business connected with
the war was peculiarly indefensible.

"I shall order the car at once," she said, and touched a bell. When she
turned he was just behind her, but altho he held out his arms she evaded
them, her eyes hard and angry.

"I wish you would try to understand," he said.

"I do, very thoroughly. Too thoroughly. You are afraid for yourself, not
for me. I am in trouble, but that is a secondary consideration. Don't
bother about me, Rodney. I have borne a great deal alone in my life, and
I can bear this."

She turned, and went with considerable dignity out of the door.

"Natalie!" he called. But he heard her with a gentle rustle of silks
going up the staircase. It did not add to his comfort that she had left
him to order the car.

All through the night Rodney rode and thought. He was angry at Natalie,
but he was angrier at himself. He felt that he had been brutal,
unnecessarily callous. After all, her only son was on his way to war.
It was on the cards that he might not come back. And he had let his
uneasiness dominate his sympathy. He had lost her, but then he had never
had her. He never could have her.

Half way to town, on a back road, the car broke down, and after vainly
endeavoring to start it the chauffeur set off on foot to secure help.
Rodney slept, uncomfortably, and wakened with the movement of the
machine to find it broad day. That was awkward, for Natalie's car was
conspicuous, marked