Wonderful, I thought, what a lot the old lady had divined, for I’m sure Rose never told her in words.
“There was no doubt about his selfishness,” I said.
“As for selfishness,” said Mrs. O’Gorman, “I don’t mind that. That hasn’t necessarily anything to do with it. All the most attractive men are selfish, even if the most selfish men are not the most attractive.”
“I wonder if that’s true,” I said.
“Think about the unselfish men you know and you’ll soon realize its truth,” she replied. “Unselfish men don’t give us any fun at all—I’m talking as a woman, remember—they make it too easy. The selfish ones keep us thinking, and when they forget themselves it’s delicious: I mean, it used to be.” She sighed and laughed. “But it’s about Rose we’re talking,” she continued. “Having got rid for a while of her husband, she comes down here and finds that poor boy, her old friend, ill and miserable, and all the love she ought to have felt for him years ago suddenly materialized, but a million times stronger, and there you are. ‘Bolt, my lamb,’ that’s what I said to her, although she never asked for my advice. ‘Bolt, my lamb, and be happy while you can.’”
“Well, I’m—” I began.
“Say it,” she said. “Say you’re damned. Nobody minds. But you’re not so damned as that poor child would have been if she’d gone back to the Arctic Zone. I’m old enough to believe that the whole purpose of unhappy people’s lives is not endurance. I’ve seen too much of it. And so has every one, especially you doctors. Endurance? No. Let revolt and escape have a chance too. That is, if people really want them. The trouble is that really wanting things is so rare. It’s a lukewarm world!”
“Anyway,” I said, “I’m amazed that you could dare to advise anything so revolutionary to Rose. It’s a terrible responsibility.”
“We look at it differently,” she replied. “I’m twenty years older than you, and, being a woman, perhaps I feel more bitterly for Rose. Besides, I’m a rebel and you’re not. I’m a believer in cutting knots, and you—although you’re more sympathetic than most—are still in favour of ‘endurance vile.’ Let those endure that enjoy it, say I, but let the others try for a second innings and a happier. If Rose had remained it would have been for what purpose? To pander to her husband’s respectability. Do you defend that? Is that your idea of a sound motive?”
“Everything can be put up with,” I said feebly. “Ever since I began to practise I have been watching couples putting up with bad jobs.”