And later,
"I suppose every life has its Golden Age. Generally we think it is youth. I"m not so sure. Youth is looking ahead. It has its hopes and its disappointments. The Golden Age in a man"s life ought to be the age of fulfillment. It"s nearer the forties than the twenties."
"Have you reached it?"
"I"m going to, on the other side."
And Clayton had smiled.
"You are going to reach it," he said. "We are always going to find it, Nolan. It is always just ahead."
And Nolan had given him one of his quick understanding glances.
There could be no Golden Age for him. For the Golden Age for a man meant fulfillment. The time came to every man when he must sit at the west window of his house of life and look toward the sunset. If he faced that sunset alone--
He heard Madeleine carrying down Natalie"s dinner-tray, and when she left the pantry she came to the door of the library.
"Mrs. Spencer would like to see you, sir."
"Thank you, Madeleine. I"ll go up very soon."
Suddenly he knew that he did not want to go up to Natalie"s scented room. She had shut him out when she was in trouble. She had not cared that he, too, was in distress. She had done her best to invalidate that compact he had made. She had always invalidated him.
To go back to the old way, to the tribute she enforced to feed her inordinate vanity, to the old hypocrisy of their relationship, to live again the old lie, was impossible.
He got up. He would not try to buy himself happiness at the cost of turning her adrift. But he must, some way, buy his self-respect.
He heard her then, on the staircase, that soft rustle which, it seemed to him, had rasped the silk of his nerves all their years together with its insistence on her dainty helplessness, her femininity, her right to protection. The tap of her high heels came closer. He drew a long breath and turned, determinedly smiling, to face the door.
Almost at once he saw that she was frightened. She had taken pains to look her best--but then she always did that. She was rouged to the eyes, and the floating white chiffon of her negligee gave to her slim body the illusion of youth, that last illusion to which she so desperately clung.
But--she was frightened.
She stood in the doorway, one hand holding aside the heavy velvet curtain, and looked at him with wide, penciled eyes.
"Clay?"
"Yes. Come in. Shall I have Buckham light a fire?"
She came in, slowly.
"Do you suppose that cable is reliable?"
"I should think so."
"He may have a relapse."
"We mustn"t worry about what may come. He is better now. The chances are that he"ll stay better."
"Probably. I suppose, because I have been so ill--"
He felt the demand for sympathy, but he had none to give. And he felt something else. Natalie was floundering, an odd word for her, always so sure of herself. She was frightened, unsure of herself, and--floundering. Why?
"Are you going to be in to-night?"
"Yes."
She gave a curious little gesture. Then she evidently made up her mind and she faced him defiantly.
"Of course, if I had known he was going to be better, I"d--Clay, I wired yesterday for Rodney Page. He arrives to-night."
"Rodney?"
"Yes."
"I don"t think I quite understand, Natalie. Why did you wire for him?"
"You wouldn"t understand, of course. I was in trouble. He has been my best friend. I tried to bear it alone, but I couldn"t. I--"
"Alone! You wouldn"t see me."
"I couldn"t, Clay."
"Why?"
"Because--if Graham had died--"
Her mouth trembled. She put her hand to her throat.
"You would have blamed me for his death?"
"Yes."
"Then, even now, if--"
"Yes."
The sheer cruelty of it sent him pale. Yet it was not so much deliberate as unconscious. She was forcing herself to an unwonted honesty. It was her honest conviction that he was responsible for Graham"s wounding and danger.
"Let me get to the bottom of this," he said quietly. "You hold me responsible. Very well. How far does that take us? How far does that take you? To Rodney!"
"You needn"t be brutal. Rodney understands me. He--he cares for me, Clay."
"I see. And, since you sent for him I take it you care for Rodney."
"I don"t know. I--"
"Isn"t it time you do know? For G.o.d"s sake, Natalie, make up your mind to some course and stick to it."