CHAPTER V
It was about six o'clock when Mrs. Balfame, steadily losing, contrary toall precedent, her mind concentrated, her features, like those of therest of the players, as hard as the stone faces dug out of Egypt, herbreath escaping in hissing jets, became vaguely conscious of adisturbance in the outer room. The young people were dancing, as wasusual in the hour before supper, but the piano and fiddles appeared tobe playing against the ribald interruptions of a man's voice. It wassome time before the narrow flow of thought in Mrs. Balfame's brain wasdeflected by the powerful outer current, but suddenly she became awarethat her partners were holding their cards suspended, and that theirears were cocked toward the door. Then she recognised her husband'svoice.
For a moment she lost her breath and her blood ran chill. She had beenapprehensive for some time of a scene in public, but she had assumedthat it would occur in a friend's house of an evening; he attended hernowhere else. The Club he had deserted long since; it was much too slowfor a man of his increasing proclivities, especially in a countyliberally provided with saloons and road houses.
During the last month she had become sensible of a new hostility in hisattitude toward her; it was as if he had suddenly penetrated her hiddenaversion and all his masculine vanity had risen in revolt. Being awoman of an almost excessive tact, she had sprayed this vanity fortwenty-two years with the delicately scented waters of flattery, but thesprings had gone suddenly dry on that morning when she had uttered hersimple and natural desire to bring the conjugal sleeping accommodationsup to date.
And now he had come out here to disgrace her, she immediately concluded,to make her a figure of fun, to destroy her social leadership. Thismight also involve him in a loss, but when a man is both drunk and angryhis foresight grows dim and revenge is sweet.
Only last night there had been an intensely disagreeable scene inprivate; that is to say, she had been dignified and slightlycontemptuous, while he had shouted that her knitting got on his nerves,and the sight of all those books on the war made him sick. When thewhole business of the country was held up by this accursed war, a manwould like to forget it when at home. And every man had the same story,by God; his wife was knitting when she ought to be darning stockings;trying to be intellectual by concerning herself with a subject thatconcerned men alone. Mr. Balfame had always resented the Woman's Club,and all talk of votes for a sex that would put him and his kind out ofbusiness. Their intelligent interest in the war was a grievous personalindignity.
Being a woman of clear thought and firm purpose, and of a really highorder of moral courage, Mrs. Balfame was daunted for a moment only. Shelaid down her cards, opened the door and entered the main room of theclub-house. There she saw, at the head of the room, a group of mensurrounding her husband; with one exception, almost as excited as he.The exception was Dwight Rush who had a hand on one of Balfame'sshoulders and appeared to be addressing him in a low tone. Little MaudeBattle ran forward and grasped her arm.
"Oh, dear Mrs. Balfame," she gasped, "do take him home. He isso--so--queer. He snatched three girls away from their partners, and theboys are so mad. And his language--oh, it was something awful."
The women and girls were huddled in groups, all but Alys Crumley, who,Mrs. Balfame vaguely realised, was sketching. Their eyes were fixed onthe group at the head of the room, where Rush was now trying to edge theburly swaying figure toward the door.
Mrs. Balfame walked directly up to her flushed and infuriated spouse.
"You are not well, David," she said peremptorily. "In all the years ofour married life never have you acted like this. I am sure that you aregetting typhoid fever--"
"To hell with typhoid fever!" shouted Mr. Balfame. "I'm drunk, that'swhat. And I'll be drunker when they let me into the bar. You get out ofthis."
Mrs. Balfame turned to Dr. Anna, who had marched up the room beside her."I am sure it is fever," she said with decision, and the loyal Annanodded sagely. "You know that liquor never affects him. We must get himhome."
"Huh!" jeered Balfame, "you two get me home! I'm not so drunk I can'tsee the joke of that. The matter with you is you think I'm disgracin'you, and you want to go on bein' the high cock-alorum of this bunch.Well, I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of bein' told to eat out when you'reat matinees or that damned Woman's Club. Home's the place for women.Knittin's all right." He laughed uproariously. "But stay at home by thefire and knit your husband's socks. Smoke a pipe too, if you like it.That's what my granny did. The whole lot of you women haven't got onegood man's brain between you, and yet you'd talk the head off thePresident of the United States--"
He was about to launch upon his opinion of Elsinore society when astaccato cough interrupted the flow. Mrs. Balfame turned away with agesture of superb disdain, although her face was livid.
"The sex jealousy we have so often discussed!" Her clear tones from thefirst had carried all over the room. "He must be taken home." She lookedat Dwight Rush and said graciously: "I am sure he will go with you. Andhe will apologise to the Club when he is himself again. I shall go backto our game."
She held her head very high as she swept down the long room, but her jawwas set, her nostrils distended, a narrow strip of eye was fixed andglaring.
An unforeseen situation had blown to flame such fires of anger asexisted in her depths, and she was unable to extinguish them as quicklyas she would have wished. To the intense surprise of the bridge womenwho had followed her out of the card-room and in again, she sank into achair and burst into tears. But she managed to cry quietly into herhandkerchief, and in a few moments had her voice under control.
"He has disgraced me!" she exclaimed bitterly. "I must resign from theClub."
"Well, I guess not." The ladies had crowded about her sympathetically."We'll all stand up for you," cried Mrs. Battle. "The men will give hima good talking-to, and he'll write an apology to the Club and that willend it."
These friends, old and more recent, were embarrassed in their genuinesympathy, for no one had ever seen Mrs. Balfame in tears before. Vaguelythey regretted that, extreme as was the provocation, she should havedescended to the level of mere womanhood. It was as if they were presentat the opening of a new chapter in the life of Mrs. Balfame of Elsinore;as, in truth, they were.
Mrs. Balfame blew her nose. "Pardon me," she said. "I never believed Ishould break down like this--but--but--" once more she set her teeth andher eyes flashed. "I have a violent headache. I must go home. I cannotfinish the game."
"I'll take you home," Dr. Anna spoke. "Oh, that beast!"
The other women kissed Mrs. Balfame, straightened her hat, and escortedher out to the runabout which Dr. Anna brought to the rear entrance ofthe clubhouse. She smiled wearily at the group, touching her brow with afinger. As soon as the little car had left the grounds and was beyondthe reach of peering eyes, she made no further attempt at self-control,but poured forth her inmost soul to the one person she had ever fullytrusted. She told the doctor all the secret horror of her life, herhatred and loathing of David Balfame; everything, in short, but herdetermination to kill him, which in the novel excitement that hadinvaded her nervous system, she forgot.
Dr. Anna, who had heard many such confessions, but who obstinately hadhoped that her friend's case was not as bad as it appearedsuperficially, was glad that she was not driving a horse; humane as shewas, she should have forgotten herself and lashed him to relieve her ownfeelings.
"You must get a divorce," she said through her teeth. "You really must.I saw Rush looking at you. There is no mistaking that expression in aman's eyes. You must--you must divorce that brute."
"I'll not!" Mrs. Balfame's composure returned abruptly. "And pleaseforget that I gave way like this and--and said things." She wonderedwhat she really had said. "I know I need not ask you never to mentionit. But divorce! Oh, no. If I continue to live with him they'll be sorryfor me and stand by me, but if I divorced him--well, I'd just be onemore divorced woman and nothing more. Elsinore isn't Newport. Moreover,they'd feel I'd no further need
of their sympathy. In time they'd let mepretty well alone."
"I don't think much of your arguments," said Dr. Anna. "You could marryRush and go to New York."
"But you know I mean what I say. And don't worry, Anna dear." She bentover the astonished doctor and gave her a warm kiss. "And as I'm notdemonstrative, you know I mean that too. You are not to worry about me.I've got the excuse I needed, and I'm going to buy some things at secondhand and refurnish one of the old bedrooms and live in it. He can't saya word after this, and he'll be humble enough, for the men will make himapologise to the Club. I'll threaten him with divorce, and that alonewill make him behave himself, for it would cost him a good deal more topay me alimony than to keep the old house going--"
"That isn't an argument that will have much effect on a man, usually inliquor. But women are queer cattle. Divorce is a great and beneficentinstitution, and here you elect to go on living under the same roof witha brute--Oh, well, it's your own funeral. Here we are. I've got to speedup and practise medicine. Am expecting a call from out at Houston's anyminute. Baby. Good night."