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1"You'll give McKee a letter of introduction to your husband, so he can do some studies of him." His lips moved silently
2for a moment as he invented, " 'George B. Wilson at the Gasoline Pump,' or something like that." Catherine leaned close
3to me and whispered in my ear: "Neither of them can stand the person they're married to." "Can't they?" "Can't stand
4them." She looked at Myrtle and then at Tom. "What I say is, why go on living with them if they can't stand them? If I
5was them I'd get a divorce and get married to each other right away." "Doesn't she like Wilson either?" The answer to
6this was unexpected. It came from Myrtle, who had overheard the question, and it was violent and obscene. "You see,"
7cried Catherine triumphantly. She lowered her voice again. "It's really his wife that's keeping them apart. She's a
8Catholic, and they don't believe in divorce." Daisy was not a Catholic, and I was a little shocked at the elaborateness
9of the lie. "When they do get married," continued Catherine, "they're going West to live for a while until it blows
10over." "It'd be more discreet to go to Europe." "Oh, do you like Europe?" she exclaimed surprisingly. "I just got back
11from Monte Carlo." "Really." "Just last year. I went over there with another girl." "Stay long?" "No, we just went to
12Monte Carlo and back. We went by way of Marseilles. We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started, but we got gyped
13out of it all in two days in the private rooms. We had an awful time getting back, I can tell you. God, how I hated that
14town!" The late afternoon sky bloomed in the window for a moment like the blue honey of the Mediterranean--then the
15shrill voice of Mrs. McKee called me back into the room. "I almost made a mistake, too," she declared vigorously. "I
16almost married a little kike who'd been after me for years. I knew he was below me. Everybody kept saying to me:
17'Lucille, that man's way below you!' But if I hadn't met Chester, he'd of got me sure." "Yes, but listen," said Myrtle
18Wilson, nodding her head up and down, "at least you didn't marry him." "I know I didn't." "Well, I married him," said
19Myrtle, ambiguously. "And that's the difference between your case and mine." "Why did you, Myrtle?" demanded Catherine.
20"Nobody forced you to." Myrtle considered. "I married him because I thought he was a gentleman," she said finally. "I
21thought he knew something about breeding, but he wasn't fit to lick my shoe." "You were crazy about him for a while,"
22said Catherine. "Crazy about him!" cried Myrtle incredulously. "Who said I was crazy about him? I never was any more
23crazy about him than I was about that man there." She pointed suddenly at me, and everyone looked at me accusingly. I
24tried to show by my expression that I expected no affection. "The only crazy I was was when I married him. I knew right
25away I made a mistake. He borrowed somebody's best suit to get married in, and never even told me about it, and the man
26came after it one day when he was out: 'Oh, is that your suit?' I said. 'This is the first I ever heard about it.' But I
27gave it to him and then I lay down and cried to beat the band all afternoon." "She really ought to get away from him,"
28resumed Catherine to me. "They've been living over that garage for eleven years. And Tom's the first sweetie she ever
29had." The bottle of whisky--a second one--was now in constant demand by all present, excepting Catherine, who "felt just
30as good on nothing at all." Tom rang for the janitor and sent him for some celebrated sandwiches, which were a complete
31supper in themselves. I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight, but each time I
32tried to go I became entangled in some wild, strident argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair.
33Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual
34watcher in the darkening streets, and I saw him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously
35enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life. Myrtle pulled her chair close to mine, and suddenly her
36warm breath poured over me the story of her first meeting with Tom. "It was on the two little seats facing each other
37that are always the last ones left on the train. I was going up to New York to see my sister and spend the night. He had
38on a dress suit and patent leather shoes, and I couldn't keep my eyes off him, but every time he looked at me I had to
39pretend to be looking at the advertisement over his head. When we came into the station he was next to me, and his white
40shirtfront pressed against my arm, and so I told him I'd have to call a policeman, but he knew I lied. I was so excited
41that when I got into a taxi with him I didn't hardly know I wasn't getting into a subway train. All I kept thinking
42about, over and over, was 'You can't live forever; you can't live forever.' " She turned to Mrs. McKee and the room rang
43full of her artificial laughter. "My dear," she cried, "I'm going to give you this dress as soon as I'm through with it.
44I've got to get another one tomorrow. I'm going to make a list of all the things I've got to get. A massage and a wave,
45and a collar for the dog, and one of those cute little ashtrays where you touch a spring, and a wreath with a black silk
46bow for mother's grave that'll last all summer. I got to write down a list so I won't forget all the things I got to
47do." It was nine o'clock--almost immediately afterward I looked at my watch and found it was ten. Mr. McKee was asleep
48on a chair with his fists clenched in his lap, like a photograph of a man of action. Taking out my handkerchief I wiped
49from his cheek the spot of dried lather that had worried me all the afternoon. The little dog was sitting on the table
50looking with blind eyes through the smoke, and from time to time groaning faintly. People disappeared, reappeared, made
51plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away. Some time
52toward midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to face discussing, in impassioned voices, whether Mrs. Wilson
53had any right to mention Daisy's name. "Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!" shouted Mrs. Wilson. "I'll say it whenever I want to!
54Daisy! Dai--" Making a short deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand. Then there were bloody
55towels upon the bathroom floor, and women's voices scolding, and high over the confusion a long broken wail of pain. Mr.
56McKee awoke from his doze and started in a daze toward the door. When he had gone halfway he turned around and stared at
57the scene--his wife and Catherine scolding and consoling as they stumbled here and there among the crowded furniture
58with articles of aid, and the despairing figure on the couch, bleeding fluently, and trying to spread a copy of Town
59Tattle over the tapestry scenes of Versailles. Then Mr. McKee turned and continued on out the door. Taking my hat from
60the chandelier, I followed. "Come to lunch some day," he suggested, as we groaned down in the elevator. "Where?"
61"Anywhere." "Keep your hands off the lever," snapped the elevator boy. "I beg your pardon," said Mr. McKee with dignity,
62"I didn't know I was touching it." "All right," I agreed, "I'll be glad to." … I was standing beside his bed and he was
63sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands. "Beauty and the Beast …
64Loneliness … Old Grocery Horse … Brook'n Bridge …" Then I was lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the
65Pennsylvania Station, staring at the morning Tribune, and waiting for the four o'clock train. III
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