PART VII - CHAPTER VERA'S SECOND CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE - CHAPTER II

________________________________________________
That evening, before dinner, Vera, busy in her chamber beautifying
her charms for the ravishment of men from New York, waited with
secret anxiety for the arrival of Stephen in his dressing-room.
And whereas she usually closed the door between the bedroom and
the dressing-room, on this occasion she carefully left it wide
open. Stephen came at last. And she waited, listening to his
movements in the dressing-room. Not a word! She made brusque
movements in the bedroom to attract his attention; she even
dropped a brush on the floor. Not a word! After a few moments, she
actually ventured into the dressing-room. Stephen was wiping his
face, and he glanced at her momentarily over the towel, which hid
his nose and mouth. Not a word! And how hard was the monster's
glance! She felt that Stephen was one of your absurd literal
persons. He had said that he would not speak to her until she had
first spoken to him--that was to say in private--public
performances did not count. And he would stick to his text, no
matter how deliciously she behaved.

She left the dressing-room in haste. Very well! Very well! If
Stephen wished for war, he should have it. Her grievance against
him grew into something immense. Before, it had been nothing but a
kind of two-roomed cottage. She now erected it into a town hall,
with imposing portals, and many windows and rich statuary, and
suite after suite of enormous rooms, and marble staircases, and
lifts that went up and down. She wished she had never married him.
She wished that Mr Bittenger HAD been bald.

At dinner everything went with admirable smoothness. Mr Bittenger
sat betwixt them. And utmost politeness reigned. In their quality
of well-bred hosts, they both endeavoured to keep Mr Bittenger at
his ease despite their desolating quarrel; and they entirely
succeeded. As the champagne disappeared (and it was not Stephen
that drank it), Mr Bittenger became more than at his ease. He was
buyer for an important firm of earthenware dealers in New York
(Vera had suspected as much--these hospitalities to American
buyers are an essential part of business in the Five Towns), and
he related very drolly the series of chances or mischances that
had left him stranded in England at that season so unseasonable
for buying. Vera reflected upon the series of chances or
mischances, and upon her dream of the man from over the long miles
of water. Of course, dreams are nonsense.... But still--

The conversation passed to the topic of Stephen's health, as
conversations in Stephen's house had a habit of doing. Mr
Bittenger listened with grave interest.

'I know, I know!' said Mr Bittenger. 'I used to be exactly the
same. I guess I understand how you feel--SOME! Don't I?'

'And you are cured?' Stephen demanded, eagerly, as he nibbled at
dry toast.

'You bet I'm cured!' said Mr Bittenger.

'You must tell me about that,' said Stephen, and added, 'some time
tonight.' He did not care to discuss the bewildering internal
economy of the human frame at his dinner-table. There were
details...and Mr Bittenger was in a mood that it was no
exaggeration to describe as gay.

Shortly afterwards, there arose a discussion as to their
respective ages. They coquetted for a few moments, as men
invariably will, each diffident about giving away the secret, each
asserting that the other was younger than himself.

'Well,' said Mr Bittenger to Vera, at length, 'what age should you
give me?'

'I--I should give you five years less than Stephen,' Vera replied.

'And may I ask just how old you are?' Mr Bittenger put the
question at close range to Stephen, and hit him full in the face
with it.

'I'm forty,' said Stephen.

'So am I!' said Mr Bittenger.

'Well, you don't look it,' said Stephen.

'Sure!' Mr Bittenger admitted, pleased.

'My husband's hair is turning grey,' said Vera, 'while yours--'

'Turning grey!' exclaimed Mr Bittender. 'I wish mine was. I'd give
five thousand dollars today if mine was.'

'But why--?' Vera smiled.

'Look here, my dear lady,' said Mr Bittenger, in a peculiar voice,
putting down his glass.

And with a swift movement he lifted a wig of glorious chestnut
hair from his head--just lifted it for an instant, and dropped it.
The man was utterly and completely bald.

Read next: PART VII - CHAPTER VERA'S SECOND CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE: CHAPTER III

Read previous: PART VII - CHAPTER VERA'S SECOND CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE: CHAPTER I

Table of content of Grim Smile of the Five Towns


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book