That, too, was like dear Clayton, Natalie reflected bitterly. He had told her nothing. In her heart she added secretiveness to the long list of Clayton's deficiencies toward her.
“Personally, I imagine they were heavily in debt,” Mrs. Haverford went on. “They had been living beyond their means, of course. I like Mrs. Valentine, but I do think, to drive a man to his death, or what may be his death—”
“I don't believe it. I don't believe he went to fight, anyway. He was probably in some sort of a scrape.”
“She has sold her house.”
Natalie's impulse of sympathy toward Audrey was drowned in her rising indignation. That all this could happen and Audrey not let her know was incredible.
“I haven't seen her recently,” she said coldly.
“Nobody has. I do think she might have seen her clergyman. There is a time when only the church can give us the comfort we need, my dear.”
And whatever Mrs. Haverford's faults, she meant that quite simply.
“And you say Clay knew?”
“It's rather likely he would. They were golfing together, weren't they, when that caddie was hurt?”