I bade him good-bye--and had lingered. His strong hands clasped mine once more and held me there.... Mutely we looked into each other's eyes ... and thus my husband found us.... Coming in unannounced--whether intentionally was of small moment. We did not start; instead, I think he held me closer and met the other's sneer with a clear gaze....
"Drop my wife's hand! Drop it, I say!" Will raised his cane to strike. I heard it snap and saw the bits in the other's hand. They clenched and glared at each other....
"It is not necessary to indulge in heroics," I interposed.... "Suppose we talk it over--sensibly."
As we seated ourselves in preparation for the "_pour-parler_" the ironic humour of the situation came to my rescue. There was something absurdly theatrical about Will's attitude: a stentorian breathing; his stride across the room; a certain punctuated deliberation in the way he relieved himself of hat and gloves. I had seen him do thus in "strong" scenes on the stage, many and many's the time. I felt as if I were waiting for a cue....
"So!" Will began after placing his chair firmly centre.... "So this is the way you abuse my confidence in you both!... My God, where is your sense of honour? If I hadn't trusted you so implicitly it wouldn't be so bad ... but to deliberately strike me from behind!" He rose, strode left centre and back again. "And you--my wife! _My wife!_ I would not have believed it of you! I would never have believed it possible that my wife could so deceive me.... I've been warned about this.... I've been warned that such a thing as this might happen, but I refused to listen to gossip ... and nobody had the nerve to tell me the truth.... It's the same old story ... a husband is always the last one to hear of his wife's infidelity.... Margaret! _Margaret!!!_"
He stopped and waved his hand tragically in the direction of the models of Boy....
"How could you.... How could you!... Here under the very eyes of our little son! Have you no shame, have you no reverence for the memory of that sainted child?... O, my God! Woman!..."
The mention of the child electrified me ... his cheap grief was revolting....
"Stop that! Stop your acting! I'm sick, _sick_, _sick_ unto death of the theatre!... Haven't you one honest, sincere emotion in your nature? Play the plain, rugged manly hero for once in your life, if act you must!... You wouldn't believe it of your wife ... _your_ wife.... Do you think _your wife_ is not made of flesh and blood and sensibilities like other human beings? What right have you to expect _anything_ from your wife? How dare you conjure with my son's name?... you, fresh from the arms of that--that creature!..."