“Yes-s,—I guess so.”
They went off to sleep at this point, but Martin brought the subject up again a few days later. During the interval, however, Jeannette had made up her mind: they were over five hundred dollars in debt and until that was cleaned up or at least very materially reduced, it would be very foolish indeed for them to consider having a child. If Martin wanted a baby, he must do his share in getting out of debt.
“But Jan, don’t you think that a baby would help us save? I mean if there was one in the house, I don’t believe you and I would want to gad so much.”
His wife eyed him with a twisted smile and an elevated brow.
“Oh—hell,” he said, disgustedly, and went to find a cigar.
CHAPTER VII
§ 1
September brought an end to the yacht-racing and a few weeks later Martin’s beloved A-boat was towed with a number of others a mile or two down the Sound to be housed in winter quarters. Jeannette earnestly hoped that this would mean her husband would spend more time with her at week-ends. He was gone from Monday till Friday all day, and she felt that at least part of his Saturday afternoons and Sundays should be hers. But Martin always wanted to do things on these days; he wanted some active form of amusement, some excitement, a “party,” as he called it; he was never content to sit at home and read or go for a walk with his wife. He asserted he needed the exercise, and if he missed it between Saturday noon and Sunday night, he was “stale” for the rest of the week. Sometimes Jeannette came into the city by train on a Saturday, met him after the office closed at noon, and together they went to lunch and later to a matinée. Then the alternative presented itself of either remaining in town for dinner and going to another show or of taking a late afternoon train back to Cohasset Beach. Such a program, of course, cost money, but unless Jeannette did this, Martin would go off to the Yacht Club Saturday afternoon, and return there in the evening after dinner to play poker. The Saturday night dances gave place at the close of the yachting season to “smokers” which only the men attended. A certain group called itself “the gang,” and prominent in it were such club lights as Herbert Gibbs, Zeb Kline, Fritz Wiggens, Steve Teschemacher and Doc French. Martin Devlin was warmly hailed as one of them. They played poker every Saturday night and the “session” lasted until an early hour Sunday morning.
Jeannette came to hate these men; she resented their taking her husband from her; she begrudged his gambling when he could not afford to lose. When she protested, the only answer from him was a testy: “Quit your crabbing.” He almost invariably won and divided his winnings with her, or at least divided what purported to be his winnings. His wife despised herself for taking the money; it made her want him to win, though she wished to be indifferent to his card-playing, since she did not approve of it. She tried to justify her acceptance of the money on the ground that it went to pay off some of their bills. But sometimes she bought a small piece of finery for herself with it. She was becoming very shabby in appearance. She reminded herself almost daily that she had not bought any new clothes since she was married, and the bride’s wardrobe, though ample, was now worn and much depleted.