«You mean running around? No, of course not. Christ, I'm a model husband. Rachel knows that perfectly well. I always tell her the truth, she knows I don't have affairs. Well, I have had, but I told her, and that was ages ago. Why shouldn't I talk to other women, we're not Victorians! I have to have friends and talk freely to them, I can't give way on a point like that. And where it would make one mad with resentment one mustn't give way, one oughtn't to. Anyway she doesn't really expect it, it's all dotty. Why shouldn't I talk about her sometimes? It would look jolly funny if she was a banned subject. It's always open kind sympathetic talk, I wouldn't say anything I wouldn't want her to hear. I don't mind her talking about me to her friends. Christ, one isn't sacred, and of course she does talk, she has lots of friends, she's not cloistered. She says she's wasted her talents, but that's not true, there are hundreds of kinds of self-expression, one doesn't have to be a bloody artist. She's intelligent, she could have been a secretary or something if she'd wanted to, but does she really want that? Of course not. It's a sort of empty complaint, and she knows it, it's just a kind of momentary annoyance with me. She does all sorts of interesting things, she's on endless committees, involved in campaigns for this and that, she knows all sorts of people, Members of Parliament, far grander people than me! She's not a frustrated person-«It's just a mood,» I said. «Women have moods.» The agonized voice I had heard upstairs already seemed remote. Then it occurred to me that I was doing just what she had predicted.
There was the sound of a lavatory flushing upstairs. Arnold moved to rise, then fell back. He said, «There you are. She'll be down. I won't bother her just yet. I'm sorry I troubled you, Bradley, there was no reason, I just stupidly panicked.»
I thought, He will soon feel resentment against me because of this. I said, «Naturally I won't mention this business to anyone.»
Arnold, looking a little annoyed, said, «Do what you like. I'm not asking you to be discreet. More sherry? Why did you chuck that doctor chap out so, if I may say so, churlishly?»
«I wanted to talk to you.»
«What was all that he was saying to you just at the end?»
«Oh, nothing.»
«He said something about 'Christian.' Was he talking about your ex-wife? Wasn't that her name? Pity I never met her, but you got rid of her so early on.»
«I'd better go. Rachel will be coming down for the reconciliation scene.»
«Not for another hour, I reckon.»
«I suppose that's one of those skilled inductions you married people live by. All the same-«Don't be evasive, Bradley. Was he talking about your once wife?»
«Yes. He's her brother.»
«Really? Your ex-wife's brother. How fascinating. I wish I'd known, I'd have looked him over more carefully. Are you being reconciled or something?»
«No.»
«Oh come on, something's happening.»
«You love happenings, don't you. She's coming back to London. She's a widow now. It's nothing to do with me.»
«Why not? Aren't you going to see her?»
«Why the hell should I? I don't like her.»
«You are picturesque, Bradley. And so dignified! After all these years. I'd be dying with curiosity. I must say, I'd love to meet your ex-wife. I can never quite see you as a married man.»
«Me neither.»
«What do you mean? You said he was.»
