They returned, and life began. On the grand scale. Luella found herself a lady of substance. It amazed her sometimes that the specially7 created apartment and the specially created limousine8 were hers, just as indisputably as the mortgaged suburban9 bungalow10 out of The Ladies' Home Journal and the last year's car that fate might have given her instead. She was even more amazed when it all began to bore her. But it did....
The evening was at seven when she turned out of the April dusk, let herself into the hall, and saw her husband waiting in the living-room before an open fire. She came in without a sound, closed the door noiselessly behind her, and stood watching him for a moment through the pleasant effective vista11 of the small salon12 which intervened. Charles Hemple was in the middle thirties, with a young serious face and distinguished13 iron-gray hair which would be white in ten years more. That and his deep-set, dark-gray eyes were his most noticeable features—women always thought his hair was romantic; most of the time Luella thought so too.
At this moment she found herself hating him a little, for she saw that he had raised his hand to his face and was rubbing it nervously14 over his chin and mouth. It gave him an air of unflattering abstraction, and sometimes even obscured his words, so that she was continually saying "What?" She had spoken about it several times, and he had apologized in a surprised way. But obviously he didn't realize how noticeable and how irritating it was, for he continued to do it. Things had now reached such a precarious15 state that Luella dreaded16 speaking of such matters any more—a certain sort of word might precipitate17 the imminent18 scene.
Luella tossed her gloves and purse abruptly19 on the table. Hearing the faint sound, her husband looked out toward the hall.
"Is that you, dear?"
"Yes, dear."
She went into the living-room, and walked into his arms and kissed him tensely. Charles Hemple responded with unusual formality, and then turned her slowly around so that she faced across the room.
"I've brought some one home to dinner."
She saw then that they were not alone, and her first feeling was of strong relief; the rigid20 expression on her face softened21 into a shy, charming smile as she held out her hand.
"This is Doctor Moon—this is my wife."
A man a little older than her husband, with a round, pale, slightly lined face, came forward to meet her.
"Good evening, Mrs. Hemple," he said. "I hope I'm not interfering22 with any arrangement of yours."
"Oh, no," Luella cried quickly. "I'm delighted that you're coming to dinner. We're quite alone."
Simultaneously23 she thought of her engagement to-night, and wondered if this could be a clumsy trap of Charles' to keep her at home. If it were, he had chosen his bait badly. This man—a tired placidity24 radiated from him, from his face, from his heavy, leisurely25 voice, even from the three-year-old shine of his clothes.
Nevertheless, she excused herself and went into the kitchen to see what was planned for dinner. As usual they were trying a new pair of servants, the luncheon26 had been ill-cooked and ill-served—she would let them go to-morrow. She hoped Charles would talk to them—she hated to get rid of servants. Sometimes they wept, and sometimes they were insolent27, but Charles had a way with him. And they were always afraid of a man.
The cooking on the stove, however, had a soothing28 savor29. Luella gave instructions about "which china," and unlocked a bottle of precious chianti from the buffet30. Then she went in to kiss young Chuck good night.
"Has he been good?" she demanded as he crawled enthusiastically into her arms.
"Very good," said the governess. "We went for a long walk over by Central Park."
"Well, aren't you a smart boy!" She kissed him ecstatically.
"And he put his foot into the fountain, so we had to come home in a taxi right away and change his little shoe and stocking."
"That's right. Here, wait a minute, Chuck!" Luella unclasped the great yellow beads31 from around her neck and handed them to him. "You mustn't break mama's beads." She turned to the nurse. "Put them on my dresser, will you, after he's asleep?"
She felt a certain compassion32 for her son as she went away—the small enclosed life he led, that all children led, except in big families. He was a dear little rose, except on the days when she took care of him. His face was the same shape as hers; she was thrilled sometimes, and formed new resolves about life when his heart beat against her own.
In her own pink and lovely bedroom, she confined her attentions to her face, which she washed and restored. Doctor Moon didn't deserve a change of dress, and Luella found herself oddly tired, though she had done very little all day. She returned to the living-room, and they went in to dinner.
"Such a nice house, Mrs. Hemple," said Doctor Moon impersonally33; "and let me congratulate you on your fine little boy."
"Thanks. Coming from a doctor, that's a nice compliment." She hesitated. "Do you specialize in children?"
"I'm not a specialist at all," he said. "I'm about the last of my kind—a general practitioner34."
"The last in New York, anyhow," remarked Charles. He had begun rubbing his face nervously, and Luella fixed35 her eyes on Doctor Moon so that she wouldn't see. But at Charles's next words she looked back at him sharply.
"In fact," he said unexpectedly, "I've invited Doctor Moon here because I wanted you to have a talk with him to-night."
Luella sat up straight in her chair.
"A talk with me?"
"Doctor Moon's an old friend of mine, and I think he can tell you a few things, Luella, that you ought to know."
"Why—" She tried to laugh, but she was surprised and annoyed. "I don't see, exactly, what you mean. There's nothing the matter with me. I don't believe I've ever felt better in my life."
Doctor Moon looked at Charles, asking permission to speak. Charles nodded, and his hand went up automatically to his face.
"Your husband has told me a great deal about your unsatisfactory life together," said Doctor Moon, still impersonally. "He wonders if I can be of any help in smoothing things out."
Luella's face was burning.
"I have no particular faith in psychoanalysis," she said coldly, "and I scarcely consider myself a subject for it."
"Neither have I," answered Doctor Moon, apparently36 unconscious of the snub; "I have no particular faith in anything but myself. I told you I am not a specialist, nor, I may add, a faddist37 of any sort. I promise nothing."
For a moment Luella considered leaving the room. But the effrontery38 of the suggestion aroused her curiosity too.
"I can't imagine what Charles has told you," she said, controlling herself with difficulty, "much less why. But I assure you that our affairs are a matter entirely39 between my husband and me. If you have no objections, Doctor Moon, I'd much prefer to discuss something—less personal."
Doctor Moon nodded heavily and politely. He made no further attempt to open the subject, and dinner proceeded in what was little more than a defeated silence. Luella determined40 that, whatever happened, she would adhere to her plans for to-night. An hour ago her independence had demanded it, but now some gesture of defiance41 had become necessary to her self-respect. She would stay in the living-room for a short moment after dinner; then, when the coffee came, she would excuse herself and dress to go out.
But when they did leave the dining-room, it was Charles who, in a quick, unarguable way, vanished.
"I have a letter to write," he said; "I'll be back in a moment." Before Luella could make a diplomatic objection, he went quickly down the corridor to his room, and she heard him shut his door.
Angry and confused, Luella poured the coffee and sank into a corner of the couch, looking intently at the fire.
"Don't be afraid, Mrs. Hemple," said Doctor Moon suddenly. "This was forced upon me. I do not act as a free agent——"
"I'm not afraid of you," she interrupted. But she knew that she was lying. She was a little afraid of him, if only for his dull insensitiveness to her distaste.
"Tell me about your trouble," he said very naturally, as though she were not a free agent either. He wasn't even looking at her, and except that they were alone in the room, he scarcely seemed to be addressing her at all.
The words that were in Luella's mind, her will, on her lips, were: "I'll do no such thing." What she actually said amazed her. It came out of her spontaneously, with apparently no co-operation of her own.
"Didn't you see him rubbing his face at dinner?" she said despairingly. "Are you blind? He's become so irritating to me that I think I'll go mad."
"I see." Doctor Moon's round face nodded.
"Don't you see I've had enough of home?" Her breasts seemed to struggle for air under her dress. "Don't you see how bored I am with keeping house, with the baby—everything seems as if it's going on forever and ever? I want excitement; and I don't care what form it takes or what I pay for it, so long as it makes my heart beat."
"I see."
It infuriated Luella that he claimed to understand. Her feeling of defiance had reached such a pitch that she preferred that no one should understand. She was content to be justified42 by the impassioned sincerity43 of her desires.
"I've tried to be good, and I'm not going to try any more. If I'm one of those women who wreck44 their lives for nothing, then I'll do it now. You can call me selfish, or silly, and be quite right; but in five minutes I'm going out of this house and begin to be alive."
This time Doctor Moon didn't answer, but he raised his head as if he were listening to something that was taking place a little distance away.
"You're not going out," he said after a moment; "I'm quite sure you're not going out."
Luella laughed.
"I am going out."
He disregarded this.
"You see, Mrs. Hemple, your husband isn't well. He's been trying to live your kind of life, and the strain of it has been too much for him. When he rubs his mouth——"
Light steps came down the corridor, and the maid, with a frightened expression on her face, tiptoed into the room.
"Mrs. Hemple——"
Startled at the interruption, Luella turned quickly.
"Yes?"
"Can I speak to—?" Her fear broke precipitately45 through her slight training. "Mr. Hemple, he's sick! He came into the kitchen a while ago and began throwing all the food out of the ice-box, and now he's in his room, crying and singing——"
Suddenly Luella heard his voice.
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1
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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2
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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4
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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6
honeymoons
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| 蜜月( honeymoon的名词复数 )； 短暂的和谐时期； 蜜月期； 最初的和谐时期 | |
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7
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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limousine
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| n.豪华轿车 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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11
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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12
salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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13
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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14
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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15
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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16
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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17
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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20
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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21
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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22
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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23
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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24
placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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26
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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27
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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28
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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29
savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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30
buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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31
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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32
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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impersonally
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| ad.非人称地 | |
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practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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36
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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37
faddist
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| n.趋于时尚者，好新奇的人 | |
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38
effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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39
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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40
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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41
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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42
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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43
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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44
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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45
precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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