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The new house engrossed her. She was seeing a great deal of Rodney,
too, and now and then she had fancied that there was a different
tone in Rodney's voice when he addressed her. She never analyzed
that tone, or what it suggested, but it gave her a new interest in
life. She was always marceled, massaged, freshly manicured. And
she had found a new facial treatment. Clayton, in his room at night,
could hear the sharp slapping of flesh on flesh, as Madeleine gently
pounded certain expensive creams into the skin of her face and neck.
She refused all forms of war activity, although now and then she
put some appeal before Clayton and asked him if he cared to send a
check. He never suggested that she answer any of these demands
personally, after an experience early in the winter.
"Why don't you send it yourself?" he had asked. "Wouldn't you like
it to go in your name?"
"It doesn't matter. I don't know any of the committee."
He had tried to explain what he meant.
"You might like to feel that you are doing something.


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