Stephen McKenna

“ Spenworth, on the other hand, had been tossed from one woman’s arms to another’s ever since he was a lad at Eton. You entered his house and never knew whom you would find at the head of his table—except that it would not be the one you had seen there a month before; the only difference that marriage made to him was that, while Kathleen sat at the head of his table, he dined elsewhere. Now that he has married again in middle life, one has no sort of guarantee. It seems impossible to frame any rules for a man of that age. . .
I had not spoken to Arthur beforehand, of course. ”

“ And Ruth does the same. . . I don’t want to bring bad luck by talking about it; but I sometimes wonder how much longer Brackenbury will put up with that—invertebrate woman; I sometimes fear that the record of the year will shew that there, too, the blow has fallen. We have seen to our cost that the most devoted husband and father may sometimes go apparently quite mad. . . I feel that Phyllida, with her youth and her looks and her money, is being so shamefully wasted. ”

“ Because Arthur had squandered a few hundreds on her, she thought he could produce thousands merely by pressing a bell; and, when she had sucked him dry, she expected Spenworth and Brackenbury to come forward. I had to tell her how things really were. . . We should all be poorer than we are by a divorce. ”

“ One look at her, one glance at the room, the least spark of imagination, any guess at what she was and what her life had been! An economical house-keeper indeed! I wish I could describe her room to you: great bowls and vases of the most expensive flowers, boxes of sweets, cigarettes; all the magazines and illustrated papers that one really does think twice about before buying. . . Clothes, too. . . I am sure that even my niece Phyllida or Culroyd’s wife, who seem to have money to burn, would not have quite such a profusion. ”

“ And, if you have been used to luxury, you will miss it more than a person who has always had to live on a small income. That is your affair, of course, and you mustn’t think me brutal if I tell you candidly that I’m considering my husband as much as I can and you not at all. You are young enough to take care of yourself, but he needs a great deal of looking after. ”

“ I only hope that the divorce will not compel him to do that, for you will both be entirely dependent on the fees that he earns. We find it hard enough to live on his income as it is, by ceaseless scraping and pinching, denying ourselves little luxuries. ”

“ My dear, I talk frankly to you and I sometimes fear that you must think me terribly sordid, but truly honestly, if one neglects small things, one neglects everything. You may fancy that there is little difference between two shillings and half-a-crown on a bottle of medicine, but, when you take the medicine for half the year and multiply the difference by twenty-six,—thirteen shillings! ”

“ The moment he takes liberties with himself, his digestion suffers, he cannot sleep—and you pay the penalty. Similarly with what he eats; he must never be given butcher’s meat more than once a day, shell-fish of every kind are poison to him, and, though he will never admit it, any rich sweets tell their tale next day. I could give you a list, but you will find out for yourself. . . Smoking again . . . one cigar does him no harm, after two he can hardly breathe; all the Spenworths are liable to bronchitis. And exercise. My husband was quite an athlete as a young man ”

“ But at our age we must expect that. Another year gone, when perhaps we cannot hope to see so very many more; another hope dashed and yet another deferred, making the heart sick; gaps in the circle of those one loves; increasing frailty or ill-health ”

“ And at Brackenbury it is canny, north-country little Ruth who holds the purse-strings . . . and dispenses her charity, offering to pay for my operation and reminding me that, when Will was at Eton, the bills came to them. . . I have felt for more years than I like to count that pinching and scraping are my appointed lot. . .
Of recent months the task became almost too much for my powers. Not only the cost of living. . . Will had lost this Morecambe appointment without finding another. Arthur complained that figure-head directors were not in so great request as formerly ”

“ You were married for a few months to a husband whom you hardly saw and who spent what money he had like water. I have kept house for more than thirty years on an income which you would not think large, but which is bigger than anything you can hope for. I know something of men and their ways and their extravagances and humours. ”

“ The result has been that throughout my married life we have been forced to pinch and scrape. You may say that the house in Mount Street was an extravagance, but one had to live somewhere. It was for one’s friends rather than oneself; I could not ask the princess to dine with me in Bayswater. . . Pinch and scrape, scrape and pinch. Arthur made a fair income by his director’s fees, but I had dreadful moments when I thought of the future. Spenworth will do no more than he has already done—that we know ”

“ If I may speak quite openly, he suffers from what men call ‘liver.’ . . I should dearly like to give you a little list of things, if you won’t think me impertinent; one does not live with a man for more than thirty years without coming to regard him as one’s child. ”

“ I said, “you know what men of that age are like—or perhaps you still don’t. My husband is essentially temperate, but he is also criminally injudicious. He thinks that an occasional glass of champagne—he cannot afford to drink it regularly—is good for him ”