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True to Natalie's
sense of the fitness of things, a small Nuremberg Christmas tree,
hung with tiny toys and lighted with small candles, stood in the
center of the table.
"We are dining out," she explained. "So I thought we'd use it now."
"It's very pretty," Clayton acknowledged. And he wondered if Natalie
felt at all as he did, the vast room and the two men serving, with
Graham no one knew where, and that travesty of Christmas joy between
them. His mind wandered to long ago Christmases.
"It's not so very long since we had a real tree," he observed. "Do
you remember the one that fell and smashed all the things on it?
And how Graham heard it and came down?"
"Horribly messy things," said Natalie, and watched the second man
critically. He was new, and she decided he was awkward.
She chattered through the meal, however, with that light gayety of
hers which was not gayety at all, and always of the country house.
"The dining-room floor is to be oak, with a marble border," she said.


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