“Not as old as Clay.”
“Oh, Clay! He's in a class by himself.” She laughed lightly.
“Where is he now?”
“In France, I think. Probably telling them how to run the war.”
“When is he coming back?”
“I don't know. What do you mean by wishing you could go?”
“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”
“Not if it's disagreeable.”
“Well, I will, and it's not very agreeable. I can't keep this up, Natalie. I can't keep on coming here, being in Clayton's house, and eating his bread, while I'm in love with his wife. It isn't decent.”
He flung away his cigaret, and bent forward.