"Explain yourself!"
"We thought you'd eloped or got locked up for speeding!"
"Stopped on the road, I'll bet," said the doctor, who had risen and grasped Will's hand. Will waved to me across the table.
"O, you actor!" came from the woman at my right but one. I recognized the person who had reproved Will after the supper at the College Inn on the opening night.
When the champagne was served Will raised his glass to me.
"Drink it--it won't hurt you; you look tired," he said, in a stage whisper.
"Stop flirting with your wife!" remonstrated Mrs. Pease. "Doc--_Doc_!"
(The doctor was busy with a little blonde lady on the left.) He turned enquiringly to his wife's bleat. "You're neglecting your patient.
Handsome Willy here says his wife is pale and wants to know what you've been doing to her!"
The doctor leaned over me solicitously. "Never mind--I'm the doctor."
For the rest of the meal he devoted himself to me.
During the dinner a party of five came in and sat at another table. Two of them proved to be the couple we had met at the other country club.
The man winked discreetly to the doctor.
"Ye gods!" exclaimed the woman at my left but one. "It's Sid!--and I'm supposed to be home, sick in bed with a headache!"
She looked at the man I had met and I assumed he was "Sid." "Damn such a town, anyway, where you can't go out without running into your own husband. Doc, who's he got with him?" She leered across the room at "Sid's" good-looking companions.
"Never mind, Bell," soothed the doctor, "neither of you have got anything on the other."
Bell blew him a kiss. "Dear old pain-killer!" she purred.
A little later "Sid" came over to the table and the doctor joined the other party. Sid's wife started to introduce him to me.
"I've met the lady," he interrupted, not giving me credit for any discretion.
"O, you have," she said in an unpleasant tone.
As he passed on behind her chair he said to her _sotto voce_, "Headache, eh? I like the way you lie."
"O, you go to hell!" was the gentle rejoinder. There was still a trace of the anger which illuminated her bleary eyes when she turned to me.
"What do you think of him trying to put it over me?"
She steered back to the subject which was on her mind. Where had I met her husband and when? I told her I didn't recall--that he was probably mistaken. She knew I was lying. I am sure I don't know why I did it.
Someone started telling funny stories. They were not really funny; only smutty. The women were more daring than the men. Will always declared that women were "whole hoggers" when once they started. I presume they labour under the impression that it is sporty or that it pleases the men "to go them one better." Ever since Eve was made for Adam's pleasure the female sex has been as pliable as the original mixture of mud and a floating rib. Women, generally, are what men want them to be....
As time went by I began to fret lest Will be late for the evening performance. Finally I caught his eye and he understood my message. He looked at his watch and jumped to his feet. "Doc, what's the best time your machine can make? I've got precisely twenty minutes before the curtain goes up."
"I'll get you there," answered the doctor as he left the table.
"I'll drive him in," called the doctor's wife.
"No, I guess not!" he answered over his shoulder. I devoutly, if mutely, thanked heaven. I am sure the doctor realized that his wife was "three sheets to the wind"--to use Will's favourite expression.
I made my adieus and rose to follow Will.
"Where are you going?" called Mrs. Pease. "No, you don't--you don't shake us like this! Willy, tell your wife to sit down and behave herself." In vain I expostulated that I must go back to the baby. "Never mind the kiddie; he's asleep and don't even know he's got a mother." She followed us into the hall where the doctor and Will were hurrying into their fur coats.
"You can't go this trip, little lady," and the doctor pushed me out of the draughty doorway. "There's no room in the car and we're going to ride like hell." I appealed mutely to Will, who drew me aside.
"Stick it out a little longer, girlie. They'll feel hurt if you don't.
You can telephone to the hotel if you're anxious about the boy." He kissed me lightly. I felt on the verge of rebellion.
"Shall you be late?" I managed.
"No--unless something breaks down on the way. I'm not on until after the rise, and if necessary I'll go on without my make-up."
"Come on, Hartley!" The doctor was already at the wheel. We watched them spurt ahead.
"I hope your husband's insured," gurgled one of the women.... I felt sick and wretched. I wanted to go home, even if it were only a hotel room. Home was where Boy was. I had a wild impulse of stealing out unnoticed and asking my way to the nearest trolley line. Then I remembered I had not a cent in my purse.
The return of the doctor relieved my mind as to Will's safe arrival. I comforted myself with the thought that the party would soon break up.
The diners across the room had joined us before the return of the doctor. There was another round of liqueurs and at last someone moved to break up. "Sid's" wife, whose tongue was getting thick, suggested that we all go for a drive and end up by having supper at Rector's. There was general acquiescence. "Let's make a night of it," was the slogan.
While the others were dividing themselves to suit the accommodation of the various automobiles, Mrs. Pease and I went to the dressing-room.
"Lord! Don't I look a sight?" she exclaimed, scanning her reflection in the mirror. "That's the worst of booze; it makes me white around the gills." She daubed on a bit of rouge and patted it over with a powder puff. I took advantage of our tete-a-tete and asked her if she would be so good as to arrange to drop me at my hotel on the way back.
"Why, my dear, you're not going home yet; you're going right along with us."
"I really must not.... Mr. Hartley wouldn't approve, I know. I have not been well and----"
"Rot! You leave that to the doctor. He'll stop and leave a note at the theatre.... Doc! _Doc!_ Come here...." The doctor peeped in the doorway.
"O, come in--we're only powdering our noses," Mrs. Pease called to him.
"Say, look here! Mrs. H. thinks hubby might not approve of her going on with us----"
"I didn't mean--" I began.
"I tell her you'll fix it up with him," she interrupted.
"It's fixed--long ago. I told your husband we'd come for him after the show. He'll want a bite to eat anyway, and why not be sociable? He told me to tell you to be a good little sport and wait for him." He laid an arm around my shoulders and Mrs. Pease, still busy in front of the mirror, laughed in mock seriousness.
"O, don't mind me!"
"Did Mr. Hartley--did my husband say he expected me to wait?"
"Sure Mike," broke in Mrs. Pease. "Doc, you go pilot that bunch so they don't butt into my preserves. Saidee is soused, and when Saidee gets soused she gets nasty drunk." The doctor disappeared. "I can't stand for women who don't know their capacity," Mrs. Pease continued, working on her complexion. "You're a wise little gazabo to go slow on the fizz. I watched you to-night, and the way you manipulated the glasses was a scream.... Do you know you made a great hit with the doctor? You're just his style--dark eyes, full bust and not 'higher than his heart.'
... O, I'm not jealous! The Doc and I are on to each other." She winked at me and led the way to the hall.
"On to each other." ... I mulled over the expression as I watched husbands and wives pairing off with and showing their preference for someone else. Everybody seemed to be "on to each other." It was a game of _stalemates_.