“I’ve still got more than half of mine.”
“Well, you had that wine at dinner, so I’ll have to catch up with you.”
She poured herself another highball and went at the task of “catching up.”
“The trouble with you, Mr.—now isn’t that a scream! I can’t think of your name.”
“Bartlett.”
“The trouble with you, Barker—do you know what’s the trouble with you? You’re too sober. See? You’re too damn sober! That’s the whole trouble, see? If you weren’t so sober, we’d be better off. See? What I can’t understand is how you can be so sober and me so high.”
“You’re not used to it.”
“Not used to it! That’s the cat’s pajamas! Say, I’m like this half the time, see? If I wasn’t, I’d die!”
“What does your husband say?”
“He don’t say because he don’t know. See, Barker? There’s nights when he’s out and there’s a few nights when I’m out myself. And there’s other nights when we’re both in and I pretend I’m sleepy and I go upstairs. See? But I don’t go to bed. See? I have a little party all by myself. See? If I didn’t, I’d die!”
“What do you mean, you’d die?”
“You’re dumb, Barker! You may be sober, but you’re dumb! Did you fall for all that apple sauce about the happy home and the contented wife? Listen, Barker—I’d give anything in the world to be out of this mess. I’d give anything to never see him again.”
“Don’t you love him anymore? Doesn’t he love you? Or what?”
“Love! I never did love him! I didn’t know what love was! And all his love is for himself!”
“How did you happen to get married?”
“I was a kid; that’s the answer. A kid and ambitious. See? He was a director then and he got stuck on me and I thought he’d make me a star. See, Barker? I married him to get myself a chance. And now look at me!”
“I’d say you were fairly well off.”
“Well off, am I? I’d change places with the scum of the earth just to be free! See, Barker? And I could have been a star without any help if I’d only realized it. I had the looks and I had the talent. I’ve got it yet. I could be a Swanson and get myself a marquis; maybe a prince! And look what I did get! A self-satisfied, self-centered—! I thought he’d make me! See, Barker? Well, he’s made me all right; he’s made me a chronic mother and it’s a wonder I’ve got any looks left.
“I fought at first. I told him marriage didn’t mean giving up my art, my life work. But it was no use. He wanted a beautiful wife and beautiful children for his beautiful home. Just to show us off. See? I’m part of his chattels. See, Barker? I’m just like his big diamond or his cars or his horses. And he wouldn’t stand for his wife ‘lowering’ herself to act in pictures. Just as if pictures hadn’t made him!
“You go back to your magazine tomorrow and write about our love nest. See, Barker? And be sure and don’t get mixed and call it a baby ranch. Babies! You thought little Norma was pretty. Well, she is. And what is it going to get her? A rich ⸻ of a husband that treats her like a ⸻! That’s what it’ll get her if I don’t interfere. I hope I don’t last long enough to see her grow up, but if I do, I’m going to advise her to run away from home and live her own life. And be somebody! Not a thing like I am! See, Barker?”
“Did you ever think of a divorce?”
“Did I ever think of one! Listen—but there’s no chance. I’ve got nothing on him, and no matter what he had on me, he’d never let the world know it. He’d keep me here and torture me like he does now, only worse. But I haven’t done anything wrong, see? The men I might care for, they’re all scared of him and his money and power. See, Barker? And the others are just as bad as him. Like fat old Morris, the hotel man, that everybody thinks he’s a model husband. The reason he don’t step out more is because he’s too stingy. But I could have him if I wanted him. Every time he gets near enough to me, he squeezes my hand. I guess he thinks it’s a nickel, the tight old ⸻! But come on, Barker. Let’s have a drink. I’m running down.”
“I think it’s about time you were running up—upstairs,” said Bartlett. “If I were you, I’d try to be in bed and asleep when Gregg gets home.”
“You’re all right, Barker. And after this drink I’m going to do just as you say. Only I thought of it before you did, see? I think of it lots of nights. And tonight you can help me out by telling him I had a bad headache.”
Left alone, Bartlett thought a while, then read, and finally dozed off. He was dozing when Gregg returned.
“Well, well, Bartlett,” said the great man, “did Celia desert you?”
“It was perfectly all right, Mr. Gregg. She had a headache and I told her to go to bed.”
“She’s had a lot of headaches lately; reads too much, I guess. Well, I’m sorry I had this date. It was about a new golf club and I had to be there. I mean I’m going to be president of it. I see you consoled yourself with some of the Bourbon. I mean the bottle doesn’t look as full as it did.”
“I hope you’ll forgive me for helping myself so generously,” said Bartlett. “I don’t get stuff like that every day!”
“Well, what do you say if we turn in? We can talk on the way to town tomorrow. Though I guess you won’t have much to ask me. I guess you know all about us. I mean you know all about us now.”
“Yes, indeed,
