Clarence drank so heavily after that, and squandered his
magnificent heritage so recklessly, that people began to say that
he would soon follow his mother. But that was four years ago, and
Rachael looking dispassionately at him, where he lay dozing in his
pillows, had to admit that he had shown no change in the past
four--or eight, or twelve--years. Like many a better woman, and
many a better wife, she wondered if she would outlive him, vaguely
saw herself, correct and remote, in her new black.
Involuntarily she sighed. How free she would be! She wished
Clarence no ill, but the fact remained that, loose as was the bond
between them, it galled and checked them both at every step. Their
conversations were embittered by a thousand personalities, they
instinctively knew how to hurt each other; a look from Clarence
could crush his poised and accomplished wife into a mere sullen
shrew, and she knew that it took less than a look from her--it
took the mere existence of her youth and health and freshness--to
infuriate him sometimes. At best, their relationship consciously
avoided hostility. Rachael was silent, fuming; Clarence fumed and
was silent; they sank to light monosyllables; they parted as
quickly as possible. Would Clarence like to dine with this friend
or that? Rachael didn't think he would, but might as well ask him.
No, thank you! he wouldn't be found dead in that bunch. Did
Rachael want to go with the Smiths and the Joneses to dine at the
Highway, and dance afterward? Oh, horrors! no, thank you!
It was only when she spoke of Billy that Rachael was sure of his
interest and attention, and of late she perforce had for Billy
only criticism and disapproval. Rachael read the girl's vain and
shallow and pleasure-loving little heart far more truly than her
father could, and she was conscious of a genuine fear lest Billy
bring sorrow to them all. Society was indulgent, yes, but an
insolent and undeveloped little girl like Billy could not snap her
fingers at the law without suffering the full penalty. Rachael
would suffer, too. Florence and her girls would suffer, and
Clarence--well, Clarence would not bear it. "What an awful mix-up
it is!" Rachael thought wearily. "And what a sickening, tiresome
place this world is!"
And then suddenly the thought of Warren Gregory came back, and the
new curious sensation of warmth tugged at her heart.