My unexpected dropping-in at Eos created quite a stir.
Spalton welcomed me back, and stood, that evening, before the fire in the sitting room, with his arm about my shoulder ... even as he did so I remembered the picture taken of him and the celebrated poet L'Estrange, together ... their arms about each other's shoulders ... and the current Eos proverb, that Spalton always quarrelled not long after with anyone about whose shoulder he first cast his arm.
Already a change was manifest in the little community. Tabled off by themselves sat the workers and the folk of the studios, that night. While the guests who stayed at the inn occupied separate tables.
And there were many secret complaints about a woman they referred to as "Dorothy" ... Dorothy had done this ... Dorothy had done that ... Dorothy would be the ruination of "the shop" ... it would have been better if she had never shown up at the Eos Studios....
I asked who was Dorothy....
"Don't you know ... we thought you did ... Spalton's new wife ... the one his first wife got a divorce from him for?"
And I heard the story, part of which I knew, but not the final details.
Spalton's first wife had been an easy-going, amiable creature ... fair and pretty in a soft, female way ... a teacher in the local Sunday school ... one who accepted all the conventions as they were ... who could not understand anyone not conforming to them ... life was easier and more comfortable that way....
Spalton's originality and genius would in the end have of itself produced a rupture between them ... few women are at home with genius, much as they clasp their hands in ecstasy over it, as viewed on the lecture and concert platform....