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Actually, she
had reached that point all loving women reach, when even to hear
a beloved name, coming out of a long silence, was both torture
and necessity.
She took unusual pains with her dress that afternoon, and it was
a very smart, slightly rouged and rather swaggering Audrey who made
her first call in weeks on Natalie that afternoon.
Natalie was a little stiff, still slightly affronted.
"I thought you must have left town," she said. "But you look as
though you'd been having a rest cure."
"Rouge," said Audrey, coolly. "No, I haven't been entirely resting."
"There are all sorts of stories going about. That you're going into
a hospital; that you're learning to fly; that you're in the secret
service?"
"Just because I find it stupid going about without a man!"
Natalie eyed her shrewdly, but there was no self-consciousness in
Audrey's face. If the stories were true, and there had been
another woman, she was carrying it off well.
"At least Chris is in France.


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