" That was what Natalie was; he had
never put it into words before. Natalie was a slacker.
He had never discussed Natalie's attitude toward the war with
Audrey. He rather thought she was entirely ignorant of it. But her
little article, glowing with patriotism, frank, simple, and
convincing, might have been written to Natalie herself.
"It is very fine," he said. "I rather think you have found
yourself at last. There aren't a lot of such women and I daresay
they will be fewer all the time. But they exist, of course."
She glowed under his approval.
There was, in all their meetings, a sub-current of sadness, that
they must be so brief, that before long they must end altogether,
that they could not put into words the things that were in their
eyes and their hearts. After that first hour of her return to
consciousness there had been no expressed tenderness between them.
The nurse sat in the room, eternally knitting, and Clayton sat near
Audrey, or read to her, or, like Terry, wandered about the room.
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