She thought it was a stranger, an intruder. But it was veritably her husband, in a new suit that was fiercely pressed and shaped, in new, gleaming, ox-blood shoes, with a hair-cut and a barber shave. He was bending over the bed, which was piled with new shirts, Afro-American ties, new toilet articles, and he was packing a new suit-case.
He turned slowly, enjoying her amazement. He finished packing a shirt. She said nothing, standing at the door. Teetering on his toes and watching the effect of it all on her, he lighted a large cigar.
“Some class, eh?” he said.
“Well—”
“Nifty suit, eh? And how are those for swell ties?”
“Very nice.... From whom did you borrow the money?”
“Now that cer’nly is a nice, sweet way to congratulate friend hubby. Oh, sure! Man lands a job, works his head off getting it, gets an advance for some new clothes he’s simply got to have, and of course everybody else congratulates him—everybody but his own wife. She sniffs at him—not a word about the new job, of course. First crack outa the box, she gets busy suspecting him, and says, ‘Who you been borrowing of now?’ And this after always acting as though she was an abused little innocent that nobody appreciated—”
He was in mid-current, swimming strong, and waving his cigar above the foaming waters, but she pulled him out of it with, “I am sorry. I ought to have known. I’m a beast. I am glad, awfully glad you’ve got a new job. What is it?”
“New company handling a new kind of motor for row-boats—converts’em to motor-boats in a jiffy—outboard motors they call’em. Got a swell territory and plenty bonus on new business.”
“Oh, isn’t that fine! It’s such a fine surprise—and it’s cute of you to keep it to surprise me with all this while—”