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"
"Are you going to tell me about it?"
"Some of it. And if I don't start to yelling like a tom-cat."
"You're not going to do that. Let me get you something."
He was terrified by her eyes. "Some aromatic ammonia." That was
Natalie's cure for everything.
"I'm not going to faint. I never do. Close the door and sit down.
And then - give me a hundred dollars, if you have it. Will you?"
"Is that enough?" he asked. And drew out his black silk evening
wallet, with its monogram in seed pearls. He laid the money on her
knee, for she made no move to take it. She sat back, her face
colorless, and surveyed him intently.
"What a comfort you are, Clay," she said. "Not a word in question.
Just like that! Yet you know I don't borrow money, usually."
"The only thing that is important is that I have the money with me.
Are you sure it's enough?"
"Plenty. I'll send it back in a week or so. I'm selling this house.
It's practically sold. I don't know why anybody wants it.


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