To date, the faraway European conflict had not affected the Master family very much. Indeed, William Master had been surprised to find that he had done quite well out of it. For a few months in 1914, the Stock Exchange had been closed, but a busy market in war bonds had developed, and soon there had been huge business to be done supplying the warring nations of Europe. American manufacturing was still forging ahead; Henry Ford was mass-producing cars on his new assembly lines.

In fact, the greatest immediate worry confronting Rose and William was their son Charlie.

He had not had to register for the draft, at least. That was something. The Draft Registration of May 1917 applied only to men aged twenty-one to thirty-one. But Charlie had given his parents plenty of other reasons to be apprehensive.

Rose had been concerned when Charlie had insisted on going to Columbia University instead of Harvard. “He likes being in New York,” her husband pointed out. “I know,” she’d answered. “That’s what worries me.” Quite apart from the fact that Harvard was Harvard, she’d also reckoned that Charlie would get into less trouble in Boston. “I’m just afraid that he’ll make undesirable friends.”

He had. Before he’d even gone to Columbia, Charlie had shown a precocious interest in the nightlife of the great city. He’d disappear into the theater district or Greenwich Village, and nobody would know where he was. More than once he’d come home drunk.

“And yet, underneath,” his mother quite correctly pointed out, “he’s still a child.”

As for his opinions, now that he was at university, one never knew what he was going to say next. He’d already told her that the Bolsheviks in Russia had a good cause; the other day he’d said he was thinking of joining an anti-war protest. His ideas and enthusiasms seemed to alter every week.

Her husband William might find it all amusing, but she was well aware that Nicholas Murray Butler at Columbia was determined that his university should be seen as patriotic and politically sound at this critical time. He’d warned the faculty and undergraduates that if they started any public protest against the war, they’d be dismissed, and recently Charlie had confessed that two of his friends had been expelled. She lived in terror that any day he might come home and tell her that the same thing had happened to him.

“I’m sure,” William said cheerfully, “that if Charlie gets in trouble, you’ll be able to smooth things over with Butler. Just ask him to one of your parties.”

It was true that Rose Master was quite a force to be reckoned with, these days. After the death of old Hetty Master, a good deal of money had flowed down to William’s parents. And when, a couple of years ago, William’s mother had died, and Tom Master had followed her not a year later, the trust funds had left William and Rose in possession of a considerable fortune, to do with as they pleased.