Good gracious, Rodney, isn't that bad enough?"
"But - what did you expect? He would have to go abroad some time.
You knew that. I'm sorry, but - why in God's name didn't you say
in your wire what the trouble was?"
"You sound exactly like Clay."
She was entirely incapable of understanding. She stood before him,
straight and resentful, and yet strangely wistful and appealing.
"I send you word that my only son is going to France, that he has
married without so much as consulting me, that he is going to war
and may never come back. I needed you, and you said once that when
I needed you, wherever you were, you would come. So I sent for
you, and now you act like - like Clay."
"Have you any one here?"
"The servants. Good gracious, Rodney, are you worrying about that?"
"Only for you, Natalie."
"We resent anything that reflects on a name we respect rather
highly." That was what Nolan had said.
"I'm sorry about Graham, dearest. I am sorry about any trouble that
comes to you.
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