Perhaps, underlying it all was the determination to
be, in every way, the man Audrey thought him to be. And there was,
too, a square-jawed resolution to put behind Graham, and other boys
like Graham, all the shells and ammunition they needed.
He worked hard; more than hard. Old Terry, meeting him one day in
the winter that followed, was shocked at his haggard face.
"Better take a little time off, Clay," he suggested. "We're going
to Miami next week. How about ten days or so? Fishing is good
this year."
"Can't very well take a holiday just now. Too much to do, Terry."
Old Terry went home and told his wife.
"Looks like the devil," he said. "He'll go down sick one of these
days. I suppose it's no use telling Natalie."
"None whatever," said Mrs. Terry. "And, anyhow, it's a thing I
shouldn't care to tell Natalie."
"What do you mean, not care to tell Natalie?"
"Hard work doesn't make a man forget how to smile."
"Oh, come now. He's cheerful enough. If you mean because Graham's
fighting?"
"That's only part of it," said Mrs.
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