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"Fifty dollars, probably," Delight reflected. "And the Belgians
needing flannels. It's dreadful."
Her resentment against Graham was dying. After all, he was only a
child in Toots Hayden's hands. And she made one of those curious
"He-loves-me-he-loves-me-not" arrangements in her own mind. If
Graham came that afternoon, she would take it as a sign that
there was still some good in him, and she would try to save him
from himself. She had been rather nasty to him. If he did not
come -
A great many came, mostly women, with a sprinkling of men. The
rector, who loved people, was in his element. He was proud of
Delight, proud of his home; he had never ceased being proud of his
wife. He knew who exactly had sent each basket of flowers, each
hanging bunch. "Your exquisite orchids," he would say; or, "that
perfectly charming basket. It is there, just beside Mrs. Haverford."
But when Natalie Spencer came in alone, splendid in Russian sables,
he happened to be looking at Delight, and he saw the light die out
of her eyes.


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