The declaration of war found Graham desperately unhappy. Natalie held
him rigidly to his promise, but it is doubtful if Natalie alone could
have kept, him out of the army. Marion was using her influence, too! She
held him by alternating between almost agreeing to runaway marriage and
threats of breaking the engagement if he went to war. She had tacitly
agreed to play Natalie's game, and she was doing it.

Graham did not analyze his own misery. What he said to himself was that
he was making a mess of things. Life, which had seemed to be a simple
thing, compounded of work and play, had become involved, difficult and
wretched.

Some times he watched Clayton almost with envy. He seemed so sure of
himself; he was so poised, so calm, so strong. And he wondered if
there had been a tumultuous youth behind the quiet of his maturity.
He compared the even course of Clayton's days, his work, his club, the
immaculate orderliness of his life, with his own disordered existence.

He was hedged about with women. Wherever he turned, they obtruded
themselves. He made plans and women brushed them aside. He tried to live
his life, and women stepped in and lived it for him. His mother, Marion,
Anna Klein. Even Delight, with her friendship always overclouded with
disapproval. Wherever he turned, a woman stood in the way. Yet he could
not do without them. He needed them even while he resented them.