But it was not easy for Bret. He knew that many people would laugh at him for a milksop; others would despise him for a complacent assistant in his wife’s dishonor. At times the dread of this gossip drove him almost mad.
He had his dark hours of jealous distrust, too, and the very thought of Eldon filled him with dread. Eldon was gifted and handsome, and congenial to Sheila, and a fellow-artist as well. And his other self, the Iago self that every Othello has, whispered that hateful word “propinquity” in his ear with vicious insinuation.
He gnashed his teeth against himself and groaned, “You fool, you’ve thrown her into Eldon’s arms.”
His better self answered: “No, you have given her to the arms of the world. Propinquity breeds hatred and jealousy and boredom and emulation as often as it breeds love.”
He would have felt reassured if he had seen Sheila fighting Eldon for points, for positions, and for lines.
There was one line in Eldon’s part that Sheila called the most beautiful line in the play, a line about the husband’s dead mother. Sheila first admired then coveted the line.
At last she openly asked for it. Eldon was furious and Vickery was aghast.
“But, my dear Sheila,” he explained, “you couldn’t use that line. Your mother is present in the cast.”
“Couldn’t we kill her off?” said Sheila.
“I like that!” cried Mrs. Vining, who was playing the part.