“I'll be awfully glad to.”
“Very well. For that promise you shall have a highball. You're an awful dear, you know.”
She placed a slim hand on his shoulder and patted it. Then, leaning rather heavily on him for support, she got to her feet.
“We'll go in and stir up some of the lovers,” she suggested. “And if Tommy Hale hasn't burned up the piano we can dance a bit. You dance divinely, you know.”
It was after seven when he reached home. He felt every inch a man. He held himself very straight as he entered the house, and the boyish grin with which he customarily greeted the butler had given place to a dignified nod.
Natalie was in her dressing-room. At his knock she told the maid to admit him, and threw a dressing-gown over her bare shoulders. Then she sent the maid away and herself cautiously closed the door into Clayton's room.
“I've got the money for you, darling,” she said. From her jewel case she took a roll of bills and held them out to him. “Five hundred.”
“I hate to take it, mother.”
“Never mind about taking it. Pay those bills before your father learns about them. That's all.”
He was divided between gratitude and indignation. His new-found maturity seemed to be slipping from him. Somehow here at home they always managed to make him feel like a small boy.