dear enemy-第33部分

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nce。　　I　believe　you　must　have　a　sort　of　hypnotic　influence。　　Occasionally；　after　you've　been　away　a　long　time；　your　spell　wears　a　little　thin。　　But　when　I　see　you；　it　all　comes　back。　　You've　been　away　now　a　long；　long　time；　so；　please　come　fast　and　bewitch　me　over　again！

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　S。


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　December　2。　Dear　Judy：

Do　you　remember　in　college；　when　you　and　I　used　to　plan　our　favorite　futures；　how　we　were　forever　turning　our　faces　southward？　　And　now　to　think　it　has　really　come　true；　and　you　are　there；　coasting　around　those　tropical　isles！　　Did　you　ever　have　such　a　thrill　in　the　whole　of　your　life；　barring　one　or　two　connected　with　Jervis；　as　when　you　came　up　on　deck　in　the　early　dawn　and　found　yourself　riding　at　anchor　in　the　harbor　of　Kingston；　with　the　water　so　blue　and　the　palms　so　green　and　the　beach　so　white？

I　remember　when　I　first　woke　in　that　harbor。　　I　felt　like　a　heroine　of　grand　opera　surrounded　by　untruly　beautiful　painted　scenery。　　Nothing　in　my　four　trips　to　Europe　ever　thrilled　me　like　the　queer　sights　and　tastes　and　smells　of　those　three　warm　weeks　seven　years　ago。　　And　ever　since；　I've　panted　to　get　back。　　When　I　stop　to　think　about　it；　I　can　hardly　bring　myself　to　swallow　our　unexciting　meals；　I　wish　to　be　dining　on　curries　and　tamales　and　mangos。　　Isn't　it　funny？　　You'd　think　I　must　have　a　dash　of　Creole　or　Spanish　or　some　warm　blood　in　me　somewhere；　but　I'm　nothing　on　earth　but　a　chilly　mixture　of　English　and　Irish　and　Scotch。　　Perhaps　that　is　why　I　hear　the　South　calling。　　〃The　palm　dreams　of　the　pine；　and　the　pine　of　the　palm。〃

After　seeing　you　off；　I　turned　back　to　New　York　with　an　awful　wander…thirst　gnawing　at　my　vitals。　　I；　too；　wanted　to　be　starting　off　on　my　travels　in　a　new　blue　hat　and　a　new　blue　suit　with　a　big　bunch　of　violets　in　my　hand。　　For　five　minutes　I　would　cheerfully　have　said　good…by　forever　to　poor　dear　Gordon　in　return　for　the　wide　world　to　wander　in。　　I　suppose　you　are　thinking　they　are　not　entirely　incompatibleGordon　and　the　wide　worldbut　I　don't　seem　able　to　get　your　point　of　view　about　husbands。　　I　see　marriage　as　a　man　must；　a　good；　sensible　workaday　institution；　but　awfully　curbing　to　one's　liberty。　　Somehow；　after　you're　married　forever；　life　has　lost　its　feeling　of　adventure。　　There　aren't　any　romantic　possibilities　waiting　to　surprise　you　around　each　corner。

The　disgraceful　truth　is　that　one　man　doesn't　seem　quite　enough　for　me。　　I　like　the　variety　of　sensation　that　you　get　only　from　a　variety　of　men。　　I'm　afraid　I've　spent　too　flirtatious　a　youth；　and　it　isn't　easy　for　me　to　settle。

I　seem　to　have　a　very　wandering　pen。　　To　return：　　I　saw　you　off；　and　took　the　ferry　back　to　New　York　with　a　horribly　empty　feeling。　　After　our　intimate；　gossipy　three　months　together；　it　seems　a　terrible　task　to　tell　you　my　troubles　in　tones　that　will　reach　to　the　bottom　of　the　continent。　　My　ferry　slid　right　under　the　nose　of　your　steamer；　and　I　could　see　you　and　Jervis　plainly　leaning　on　the　rail。　　I　waved　frantically；　but　you　never　blinked　an　eyelash。　　Your　gaze　was　fixed　in　homesick　contemplation　upon　the　top　of　the　Woolworth　Building。

Back　in　New　York；　I　took　myself　to　a　department　store　to　accomplish　a　few　trifles　in　the　way　of　shopping。　　As　I　was　entering　through　their　revolving　doors；　who　should　be　revolving　in　the　other　direction　but　Helen　Brooks！　　We　had　a　terrible　time　meeting；　as　I　tried　to　go　back　out；　and　she　tried　to　come　back　in；　I　thought　we　should　revolve　eternally。　　But　we　finally　got　together　and　shook　hands；　and　she　obligingly　helped　me　choose　fifteen　dozen　pairs　of　stockings　and　fifty　caps　and　sweaters　and　two　hundred　union　suits；　and　then　we　gossiped　all　the　way　up　to　Fifty…second　Street；　where　we　had　luncheon　at　the　Women's　University　Club。

I　always　liked　Helen。　　She's　not　spectacular；　but　steady　and　dependable。　　Will　you　ever　forget　the　way　she　took　hold　of　that　senior　pageant　committee　and　whipped　it　into　shape　after　Mildred　had　made　such　a　mess　of　it？　　How　would　she　do　here　as　a　successor　to　me？　　I　am　filled　with　jealousy　at　the　thought　of　a　successor；　but　I　suppose　I　must　face　it。

〃When　did　you　last　see　Judy　Abbott？〃　was　Helen's　first　question。

〃Fifteen　minutes　ago；〃　said　I。　　〃She　has　just　set　sail　for　the　Spanish　main　with　a　husband　and　daughter　and　nurse　and　maid　and　valet　and　dog。〃

〃Has　she　a　nice　husband？〃

〃None　better。〃

〃And　does　she　still　like　him？〃

〃Never　saw　a　happier　marriage。〃

It　struck　me　that　Helen　looked　a　trifle　bleak；　and　I　suddenly　remembered　all　that　gossip　that　Marty　Keene　told　us　last　summer；　so　I　hastily　changed　the　conversation　to　a　perfectly　safe　subject　like　orphans。

But　later　she　told　me　the　whole　story　herself　in　as　detached　and　impersonal　a　way　as　though　she　were　discussing　the　characters　in　a　book。　　She　has　been　living　alone　in　the　city；　hardly　seeing　any　one；　and　she　seemed　low　in　spirits　and　glad　to　talk。　　Poor　Helen　appears　to　have　made　an　awful　mess　of　her　life。　　I　don't　know　any　one　who　has　covered　so　much　ground　in　such　a　short　space　of　time。　　Since　her　graduation　she　has　been　married；　has　had　a　baby　and　lost　him；　divorced　her　husband；　quarreled　with　her　family；　and　come　to　the　city　to　earn　her　own　living。　　She　is　reading　manuscript　for　a　publishing　house。

There　seems　to　have　been　no　reason　for　her　divorce　from　the　ordinary　point　of　view；　the　marriage　just　simply　didn't　work。　　They　weren't　friends。　　If　he　had　been　a　woman；　she　wouldn't　have　wasted　half　an　hour　talking　with　him。　　If　she　had　been　a　man；　he　would　have　said：　　〃Glad　to　see　you。　　How　are　you？〃　and　gone　on。　　And　yet　they　MARRIED。　　Isn't　it　dreadful　how　blind　this　sex　business　can　make　people？

She　was　brought　up　on　the　theory　that　a　woman's　only　legitimate　profession　is　homemaking。　　When　she　finished　college；　she　was　naturally　eager　to　start　on　her　career；　and　Henry　presented　himself。　　Her　family　scanned　him　closely；　and　found　him　perfect　in　every　respectgood　family；　good　morals；　good　financial　position；　good　looking。　　Helen　was　in　love　with　him。　　She　had　a　big　wedding　and　lots　of　new　clothes　and　dozens　of　embroidered　towels。　　Everything　looked　propitious。

But　as　they　began　to　get　acquainted；　they　didn't　like　the　same　books　or　jokes　or　people　or　amusements。　　He　was　expansive　and　social　and　hilarious；　and　she　wasn't。　　First　they　bored；　and　then　they　irritated；　each　other。　　Her　orderliness　made　him　impatient；　and　his　disorderliness　drove　her　wild。　　She　would　spend　a　day　getting　closets　and　bureau　drawers　in　order；　and　in　five　minutes　he　would　stir　them　into　chaos。　　He　would　leave　his　clothes　about　for　her　to　pick　up；　and　his　towels　in　a　messy　heap　on　the　bathroom　floor；　and　he　never　scrubbed　out　the　tub。　　And　she；　on　her　side；　was　awfully　unresponsive　and　irritating；she　realized　it　fully；she　got　to　the　point　where　she　wouldn't　laugh　at　his　jokes。

I　suppose　most　old…fashioned；　orthodox　people　would　think　it　awful　to　break　up　a　marriage　on　such　innocent　grounds。　　It　seemed　so　to　me　at　first；　but　as　she　went　on　piling　up　detail　on　detail　each　trivial　in　itself；　but　making　a　mountainous　total；　I　agreed　with　Helen　that　it　was　awful　to　keep　it　going。　　It　wasn't　really　a　marriage；　it　was　a　mistake。

So　one　morning　at　breakfast；　when　the　subject　of　what　they　should　do　for　the　summer　came　up；　she　said　quite　casually　that　she　thought　she　would　go　West　and　get　a　residence　in　some　State　where　you　could　get　a　divorce　for　a　respectable　cause；　and　for　the　first　time　in　months　he　agreed　with　her。

You　can　imagine　the　outraged　feelings　of　her　Victorian　family。　　In　all　the　seven　generations　of　their　sojourn　in　America　they　have　never　had　anything　like　this　to　record　in　the　family　Bible。　　It　all　comes　from　sending　her　to　college　and　letting　her　read　such　dreadful　modern　people　as　Ellen　Key　and　Bernard　Shaw。

〃If　he　had　only　got　drunk　and　dragged　me　about　by　the　hair；〃　Helen　wailed；　〃it　would　have　been　legitimate；　but　because　we　didn't　actually　throw　things　at　each　other；　no　one　could　see　any　reason　for　a　divorce。〃

The　pathetic　part　of　the　whole　business　is　that　both　she　and　Henry　were　admirably　fitted　to　make　some　one　else　happy。　　They　just　simply　didn't　match　each　other；　and　when　two　people　don't　match；　all　the　ceremonies　in　the　world　can't　marry　them。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Saturday　morning。


I　meant　to　get　this　letter　off　two　days　ago；　and　here　I　am　with　volumes　written；　but　nothing　mailed。

We've　just　had　one　of　those　miserable　deceiving　nightscold　and　frosty　when　you　go　to　bed；　and　warm　and　lifeless　when　you　wake　in　the　dark；　smothered　under　a　mountain　of　blankets。　　By　the　time　I　had　removed　my　own　extra　covers　and　plumped　up　my　pillow　and　settled　comfortably；　I　thought　of　those　fourteen　bundled…up　babies　in　the　fresh…air　nursery。　　Their　so…called　night　nurse　sleeps　like　a　top　the　whole　night　through。　　（Her　name　is　next　on　the　list　to　be　expunged。）　　So　I　roused　myself　again；　and　made　a　little　blanket　removing　tour；　and　by　the　time　I　had　finished　I　was　forever　awake。　　It　is　not　often　that　I　pass　a　NUIT　BLANCHE；　but　when　I　do；　I　settle　world　problems。　　Isn't　it　funny　how　much　keener　your　mind　is　when　you　are　lying　awake　i