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Much to Clayton's disgust, he found on returning home that they
were dining out.
"Only at the Mackenzies. It's not a party," Natalie said. As
usual, she was before the dressing-table, and she spoke to his
reflection in the mirror. "I should think you could do that,
without looking like a thunder-cloud. Goodness knows we've been
quiet enough this Lent."
"You know Congress has been re-convened?"
"I don't know why that should interfere."
"It's rather a serious time." He tried very hard to speak pleasantly.
Her engrossment in her own reflection irritated him, so he did not
look at her. "But of course I'll go."
"Every time is a serious time with you lately," she flung after him.
Her tone was not disagreeable. She was merely restating an old
grievance. A few moments later he heard her calling through the
open door.
"I got some wonderful old rugs to-day, Clay."
"Yes?"
"You'll scream when you pay for them."
"I've lost my voice screaming, my dear."
"You'll love these.


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