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"
When Clayton made no reply Nolan glanced at him again.
"I suppose he'll want to go," he suggested.
Clayton's face was set. For more than an hour now Graham had been
closeted with his mother, and as the time went on, and no slam of
a door up-stairs told of his customary method of leaving a room, he
had been conscious of a growing uneasiness. The boy was soft; the
fiber in him had not been hardened yet, not enough to be proof
against tears. He wanted desperately to leave Nolan, to go up and
learn what arguments, what coaxing and selfish whimperings Natalie
was using with the boy. But he wanted, also desperately, to have
the boy fight his own fight and win.
"He will want to go, I think. Of course, his mother will be shaken
just now. It'll all new to her. She wouldn't believe it was coming."
"He'll go," Nolan said reflectively. "They'll all go, the best of
them first. After all, we've been making a lot of noise about
wanting to get into the thing. Now we're in, and that's the first
price we pay - the boys.


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