"What do you say, Natalie?" Audrey asked.

"I hadn't thought about it. Money, probably."

"You are all wrong," said Audrey, and lighted a fresh cigaret.
"They want different things at different ages. That's why marriage
is such a rotten failure. First they want women; any woman will do,
really. So they marry - any woman. Then they want money. After
that they want power and place. And when they've got that they
begin to want - love."

"Good gracious, Audrey, what a cynical speech!" said Mrs. Mackenzie.
"If they've been married all that time - "

"Oh, tut!" said Audrey, rudely.

She had the impulse of the unhappy woman to hurt, but she was rather
ashamed of herself, too. These women were her friends. Let them go
on believing that life was a thing of lasting loves, that men were
true to the end, and that the relationships of life were fixed and
permanent things.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was just being clever! Let's talk about
the war. It's the only thing worth talking about, anyhow."

In the dining-room Clayton Spencer, standing tall and erect, had
watched the women go out. How typical the party was of Natalie, of
her meticulous care in small things and her indifference or real
ignorance as to what counted. Was it indifference, really, or was
it supreme craftiness, the stupidity of her dinners, the general