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Natalie did not need him, and had not, either as
a lover or a husband, for years. But the boy did.
There was a little stir in the room behind. The Haverfords were
leaving, and the Hayden girl, who was plainly finding the party
dull. Graham was looking down at her, a tall, handsome boy, with
Natalie's blonde hair but his father's height and almost insolent
good looks.
"Come around to-morrow," she was saying. "About four. There's
always a crowd about five, you know."
Clayton knew, and felt a misgiving. The Hayden house was a late
afternoon loafing and meeting place for the idle sons and daughters
of the rich. Not the conservative old families, who had developed
a sense of the responsibility of wealth, but of the second
generation of easily acquired money. As she went out, with Graham
at her elbow, he heard Chris, at the bridge table.
"Terrible house, the Haydens. Just one step from the Saturday night
carouse in Clay's mill district."
When Graham came back, Mrs.


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