Her mind carried her on to contemplate the future and what it held in store for them. Her marriage with Martin must be a success. There must be no quarrelling, no disagreements, no bickerings. There must never, never be any talk of divorce between them.... Ah, how she hated the word divorce now! She had never given the subject any particular consideration heretofore; it was merely an accepted proceeding by which unhappily married people won back their freedom. But how differently she felt about it to-day! She would die rather than ever consent to a divorce from Martin! She’d forgive him anything! He was a little spoiled, perhaps; he liked to have his own way, and he hated anything unpleasant. It must be her duty to humor and educate him; she must give a little, exact a little. A successful marriage, she believed, depended upon that. A husband and wife must become adjusted to one another. If necessary, she resolved, she would give more than she received. Oh, yes, she would give and give and _give_!
Martin had only one serious fault, and that was he too much liked having a good time. It seemed to her he was never satisfied with anything less than an epicure’s dinner; he must have the best all the time. He loved cocktails and wine and good cigars, a “snappy” show, a little bite of something afterwards, a gay place to dine, lively music, lights, color. He wanted “to go places where there was something doing,” and he didn’t want “to go places where there was nothing doing.” These were familiar expressions on his lips. His wife told herself she liked a good time, too; she loved the theatre and to dress well, and she liked a gay restaurant, good food and music, but she didn’t want them all the time; she wasn’t as dependent upon them as Martin was. A husband and wife, she considered, should not indulge in too much of that kind of frivolous living, and no later than last evening she had had a talk with Martin about it.
“Aw,--sure my dear,--you’re dead right,” he had assured her. “I know. We must settle down, and stay at home nights, but we’re still having our honeymoon, and I can’t get used to the idea that you’re my wife. It just seems to me we ought to celebrate all the time.”