Suddenly it occurred to him that perhaps, for once, Natalie was in
earnest. Perhaps Rodney was, too. Perhaps each of them had at last
found something that loomed larger than themselves. In that case? But
everything he knew of Natalie contradicted that. She was not a woman to
count anything well lost for love. She was playing with his honor, with
Rodney, with her own vanity.

Going up-town that night he pondered the question of how to take up the
matter with her. It would be absurd, under the circumstances, to take
any virtuous attitude. He was still undetermined when he reached the
house.

He found Marion Hayden there for dinner, and Graham, and a spirited
three-corner discussion going on which ceased when he stood in the
doorway. Natalie looked irritated, Graham determined, and Marion was
slightly insolent and unusually handsome.

"Hurry and change, Clay," Natalie said. "Dinner is waiting."

As he went away he had again the feeling of being shut out of something
which concerned Graham.

Dinner was difficult. Natalie was obviously sulking, and Graham was
rather taciturn. It was Marion who kept the conversation going, and he
surmised in her a repressed excitement, a certain triumph.

At last Natalie roused herself. The meal was almost over, and the
servants had withdrawn.

"I wish you would talk sense to Graham, Clay," she said, fretfully. "I
think he has gone mad."