"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!..."
Will eyed me narrowly.
"O ... so you've been listening to gossip, have you? You've been discussing me between you, is that it? No doubt our friend, here, has done his best to put you wise, eh? I've had enough of this...."
"You shall stay and hear me out!... It may surprise you to know that our friend, here, has not even intimated that he knew of your flagrant liaison.... It may shock you to know that it was your wife, the gutta-percha doll, who made the first declaration of tenderness, and I'm glad, I'm glad that I had so much real passion left! I'm glad to realize that after all I am a human being still, capable of feeling" ... (a sudden weariness overcame me and left me limp and exhausted). "The trouble is—you are so impregnated with the rottenness about you, that you judge all by your own standard.... Let's have done with this!... Any further discussion will be carried on in the privacy of our home.... I am sorry ... sorry to have subjected you to this humiliating scene." My last words were addressed to the man who, tall, gaunt and pale, looked on—and waited. Through a blur of tears I held out my hand to him.... "Good-bye," I said and left them together.