I went to the Galts’ for dinner uninvited, as now I often did. Vera did not appear. She was reported to be indisposed. I passed the evening with Galt in his study, and left early. Natalie was alone in the parlor, reading. She came into the hall as I was putting on my coat and laid a hand on my arm, consolingly.
“You won’t stop coming, will you?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“They always do,” she said. “And some of them are so nice, like you.”
“Natalie, what are you talking about?”
“Father would miss you terribly,” she said.
I promised whatever it was she wanted. She shook hands on it and watched me down the steps.
The next evening I called after dinner. Vera was out. I wrote her a note of expostulation, then one in anger, and a third in terms that were abject; and she answered none of them.