A man's house must be built on love. Without love it can not stand.

Natalie, coming in much later and seeing his light still on, found him

sleeping, with one arm under his head, and a small black hole burned in

the monogrammed linen sheet. The book of poems had slipped to the floor.

The next day she missed it from its place, and Clayton's man,

interrogated, said he had asked to have it put away somewhere. He did

not care for it. Natalie raised her eyebrows. She had thought the poems

rather pretty.

One resolution Clayton made, as a result of that night. He would not see

Audrey again if he could help it. He was not in love with her and he did

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not intend to be. He was determinedly honest with himself. Men in

his discontented state were only too apt to build up a dream-woman,

compounded of their own starved fancy, and translate her into terms of

the first attractive woman who happened to cross the path. He was not

going to be a driveling idiot, like Chris and some of the other men he

knew. Things were bad, but they could be much worse.

It happened then that when Audrey called him at the mill a day or so

later it was a very formal voice that came back to her over the wire.

She was quick to catch his tone.

"I suppose you hate being called in business hours, Clay!"

"Not at all."

"That means yes, you know. But I'm going even further. I'm coming down

to see you."

"Why, is anything wrong?"

He could hear her laughter, a warm little chuckle.

"Don't be so urgent," she said gayly. "I want to consult you. That's

all. May I come?"

There was a second's pause. Then, "Don't you think I'd better come to see you?"

"I've only a little flat. I don't think you'll like it."

"That's nonsense. Where is it?"

She gave him the address.

"When shall I come?"

"Whenever it suits you. I have nothing to do. Say this afternoon about

four."

That "nothing to do" was an odd change, in itself, for Audrey had been

in the habit of doling out her time like sweetmeats.

"Where in the world have you been all this time?" he demanded, almost

angrily. To his own surprise he was suddenly conscious of a sense of

indignation and affront. She had said she depended on him, and then she

had gone away and hidden herself. It was ridiculous.