the homme moyen sensuel. This too could be a help in marriage. Arnold's glass struck his lower teeth with a slight clack. He had probably drunk a good deal since coming downstairs.
«Good-bye,» I said meaningfully to Francis.
«I'm so grateful, Doctor,» said Arnold. «Do I owe you anything?»
«You owe him nothing,» I said.
Francis looked wistful. He had risen, recognizing the futility of resistance, taking his orders from me.
«About what we were talking about before,» he said to me conspiratorially at the door. «When you see Christian-«I won't.»
«Anyway, here's my address.»
«I won't need it.» I led him through the hall. «Goodbye. Thanks.» I shut the front door behind him and returned to Arnold. We sat, both of us crouching a little over the electric fire. I felt very limp and, in a blank sort of way, frightened.
«You are very firm with your friends,» said Arnold.
«He's not a friend.»
«I thought you said-«Oh never mind him. Do you really think Rachel will come down to supper?»
«Yes, I do. This is just a matter of experience. She never sulks for long after a thing like this, not if I lose my temper. She's kind to me then. It's if I keep quiet she goes on and on. Not that we make a habit of scraps like this. But we sometimes both explode and then it's all over at once, clears the air. We're very close to each other. These rows aren't real warfare, they're an aspect of love. This may be hard for an outsider to understand-«I suppose usually there aren't outsiders around.»
«Quite. You do believe me, don't you, Bradley? It's rather important that you should. I'm not just defending myself. It's true. We both shout but there's no real danger. Understand?»
«Yes,» I said, reserving my judgment.
«Did she say anything about me?»
Anyway, what did it mean?
«She's such a good person, very forgiving, very kind. I'll leave her be for the moment. She'll soon pity me and come down. We never let the sun go down upon our wrath. It's fake wrath anyway. You do understand, Bradley?»
«Yes.»
«Look,» said Arnold, «my hand's trembling. Look at the glass shaking about. It's quite involuntary. Isn't that odd?»
«You'd better get your own doctor tomorrow.»
«Oh, I think I shall be better tomorrow.»
«To see her, you fool.»
«Yes, yes, of course. But she's very resilient. Anyway she's not badly hurt, I got that quite clear. Oh thank God, thank God, thank God-I just misunderstood that scene with the poker. She was shamming, furious. I don't blame her. We're a couple of fools. She really isn't badly hurt, Bradley. The doctor explained. Christ, do you think I'm some sort of monster?»
«No. Do you mind if I tidy things up a bit?» I set a stool upright. I began to stoop around the room with a wastepaper basket, picking up broken glass and china, mementoes of the battle which now seemed so unreal, impossible. One casualty was a red-eyed china rabbit which I knew Rachel was very fond of. Who had broken that? Probably Rachel.
«Rachel and I are very happily married,» said Arnold.
«Yes, I'm sure.» He was probably right. They probably were. I sat down again, feeling very tired.
«Of course we argue sometimes. Marriage is a long journey at close quarters. Of course nerves get frayed. Every married person is a Jekyll and Hyde, they've got to be. You mayn't think it, but Rachel is a bit of a nagger. Her voice goes on and on and on sometimes. At least it has lately, I suppose it's her age. You wouldn't believe it, but she can go on for an hour saying the same thing over and over again.»
«Women like to talk.»
«This isn't talk. I mean that she repeats the same sentence over and over and over again.»
«You mean literally? She ought to see a psychiatrist.»
«What sort of sentence does she repeat, saying what? Give me an example.»
«No. You wouldn't understand. It would sound awful when it isn't. She gets an idea and runs it for a while. For instance that I discuss her. with other women.»
«You're not sort of-Are you?»
«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.»
