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Had the place looked
well? Very. And was the planting going on all right? She supposed
so. He had hesitated, rather discouraged. Then:
"I don't want to spoil your pleasure in the place, Natalie - " he
had said, rather awkwardly. "After all, you will be there more than
I shall. You'd better have it the way you like it."
She had appeared mollified at that and had relaxed somewhat. He
fancied that the silence that followed was no longer resentful, that
she was busily planning. But when they had almost reached the house
she turned to him.
"Please don't talk war all evening, Clay," she said. "I'm so
ghastly sick of it."
"All right," he agreed amiably. "Of course I can't prevent the
others doing it."
"It's generally you who lead up to it. Ever since you came back
you've bored everybody to death with it."
"Sorry," he said, rather stiffly. "I'll be careful."
He had a wretched feeling that she was probably right. He had come
back so full of new impressions that he had probably overflowed
with them.


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