CHAPTER XX

by Sinclair Lewis

　　CHAPTER XXIHE sat smoking with the piano-salesman, clinging to the warm refuge ofgossip, afraid to venture into thoughts of Paul. He was the more affableon the surface as secretly he became more apprehensive, felt morehollow. He was certain that Paul was in Chicago without Zilla'sknowledge, and that he was doing things not at all moral and secure.When the salesman yawned that he had to write up his orders, Babbittleft him, left the hotel, in leisurely calm. But savagely he said"Campbell Inn!" to the taxi-driver. He sat agitated on the slipperyleather seat, in that chill dimness which smelled of dust and perfumeand Turkish cigarettes. He did not heed the snowy lake-front, the darkspaces and sudden bright corners in the unknown land south of the Loop.The office of the Campbell Inn was hard, bright, new; the night clerkharder and brighter. "Yep?" he said to Babbitt."Mr. Paul Riesling registered here?""Yep.""Is he in now?""Nope.""Then if you'll give me his key, I'll wait for him.""Can't do that, brother. Wait down here if you wanna."Babbitt had spoken with the deference which all the Clan of Good Fellowsgive to hotel clerks. Now he said with snarling abruptness:"I may have to wait some time. I'm Riesling's brother-in-law. I'll go upto his room. D' I look like a sneak-thief?"His voice was low and not pleasant. With considerable haste theclerk took down the key, protesting, "I never said you looked like asneak-thief. Just rules of the hotel. But if you want to--"On his way up in the elevator Babbitt wondered why he was here. Whyshouldn't Paul be dining with a respectable married woman? Why had helied to the clerk about being Paul's brother-in-law? He had acted like achild. He must be careful not to say foolish dramatic things to Paul.As he settled down he tried to look pompous and placid. Then thethought--Suicide. He'd been dreading that, without knowing it. Paulwould be just the person to do something like that. He must be out ofhis head or he wouldn't be confiding in that--that dried-up hag.Zilla (oh, damn Zilla! how gladly he'd throttle that nagging fiend of awoman!)--she'd probably succeeded at last, and driven Paul crazy.Suicide. Out there in the lake, way out, beyond the piled ice along theshore. It would be ghastly cold to drop into the water to-night.Or--throat cut--in the bathroom--Babbitt flung into Paul's bathroom. It was empty. He smiled, feebly.He pulled at his choking collar, looked at his watch, opened the windowto stare down at the street, looked at his watch, tried to read theevening paper lying on the glass-topped bureau, looked again at hiswatch. Three minutes had gone by since he had first looked at it.And he waited for three hours.He was sitting fixed, chilled, when the doorknob turned. Paul came inglowering."Hello," Paul said. "Been waiting?""Yuh, little while.""Well?""Well what? Just thought I'd drop in to see how you made out in Akron.""I did all right. What difference does it make?""Why, gosh, Paul, what are you sore about?""What are you butting into my affairs for?""Why, Paul, that's no way to talk! I'm not butting into nothing. I wasso glad to see your ugly old phiz that I just dropped in to say howdy.""Well, I'm not going to have anybody following me around and trying toboss me. I've had all of that I'm going to stand!""Well, gosh, I'm not--""I didn't like the way you looked at May Arnold, or the snooty way youtalked.""Well, all right then! If you think I'm a buttinsky, then I'll just buttin! I don't know who your May Arnold is, but I know doggone good andwell that you and her weren't talking about tar-roofing, no, nor aboutplaying the violin, neither! If you haven't got any moral considerationfor yourself, you ought to have some for your position in the community.The idea of your going around places gawping into a female's eyes likea love-sick pup! I can understand a fellow slipping once, but I don'tpropose to see a fellow that's been as chummy with me as you havegetting started on the downward path and sneaking off from his wife,even as cranky a one as Zilla, to go woman-chasing--""Oh, you're a perfectly moral little husband!""I am, by God! I've never looked at any woman except Myra since I'vebeen married--practically--and I never will! I tell you there's nothingto immorality. It don't pay. Can't you see, old man, it just makes Zillastill crankier?"Slight of resolution as he was of body, Paul threw his snow-beadedovercoat on the floor and crouched on a flimsy cane chair. "Oh, you'rean old blowhard, and you know less about morality than Tinka, but you'reall right, Georgie. But you can't understand that--I'm through. I can'tgo Zilla's hammering any longer. She's made up her mind that I'm adevil, and--Reg'lar Inquisition. Torture. She enjoys it. It's a game tosee how sore she can make me. And me, either it's find a little comfort,any comfort, anywhere, or else do something a lot worse. Now this Mrs.Arnold, she's not so young, but she's a fine woman and she understands afellow, and she's had her own troubles.""Yea! I suppose she's one of these hens whose husband 'doesn'tunderstand her'!""I don't know. Maybe. He was killed in the war."Babbitt lumbered up, stood beside Paul patting his shoulder, making softapologetic noises."Honest, George, she's a fine woman, and she's had one hell of a time.We manage to jolly each other up a lot. We tell each other we're thedandiest pair on earth. Maybe we don't believe it, but it helps a lotto have somebody with whom you can be perfectly simple, and not all thisdiscussing--explaining--""And that's as far as you go?""It is not! Go on! Say it!""Well, I don't--I can't say I like it, but--" With a burst which lefthim feeling large and shining with generosity, "it's none of my darnbusiness! I'll do anything I can for you, if there's anything I can do.""There might be. I judge from Zilla's letters that 've been forwardedfrom Akron that she's getting suspicious about my staying away so long.She'd be perfectly capable of having me shadowed, and of coming toChicago and busting into a hotel dining-room and bawling me out beforeeverybody.""I'll take care of Zilla. I'll hand her a good fairy-story when I getback to Zenith.""I don't know--I don't think you better try it. You're a good fellow.but I don't know that diplomacy is your strong point." Babbitt lookedhurt, then irritated. "I mean with women! With women, I mean. Coursethey got to go some to beat you in business diplomacy, but I justmean with women. Zilla may do a lot of rough talking, but she's prettyshrewd. She'd have the story out of you in no time.""Well, all right, but--" Babbitt was still pathetic at not being allowedto play Secret Agent. Paul soothed:"Course maybe you might tell her you'd been in Akron and seen me there.""Why, sure, you bet! Don't I have to go look at that candy-storeproperty in Akron? Don't I? Ain't it a shame I have to stop off therewhen I'm so anxious to get home? Ain't it a regular shame? I'll say itis! I'll say it's a doggone shame!""Fine. But for glory hallelujah's sake don't go putting any fancyfixings on the story. When men lie they always try to make it tooartistic, and that's why women get suspicious. And--Let's have a drink,Georgie. I've got some gin and a little vermouth."The Paul who normally refused a second cocktail took a second now, anda third. He became red-eyed and thick-tongued. He was embarrassinglyjocular and salacious.In the taxicab Babbitt incredulously found tears crowding into his eyes.IIHe had not told Paul of his plan but he did stop at Akron, betweentrains, for the one purpose of sending to Zilla a postcard with "Had tocome here for the day, ran into Paul." In Zenith he called on her.If for public appearances Zilla was over-coiffed, over-painted,and resolutely corseted, for private misery she wore a filthy bluedressing-gown and torn stockings thrust into streaky pink satin mules.Her face was sunken. She seemed to have but half as much hair as Babbittremembered, and that half was stringy. She sat in a rocker amid a debrisof candy-boxes and cheap magazines, and she sounded dolorous when shedid not sound derisive. But Babbitt was exceedingly breezy:"Well, well, Zil, old dear, having a good loaf while hubby's away?That's the ideal I'll bet a hat Myra never got up till ten, while I wasin Chicago. Say, could I borrow your thermos--just dropped in to seeif I could borrow your thermos bottle. We're going to have a tobogganparty--want to take some coffee mit. Oh, did you get my card from Akron,saying I'd run into Paul?""Yes. What was he doing?""How do you mean?" He unbuttoned his overcoat, sat tentatively on thearm of a chair."You know how I mean!" She slapped the pages of a magazine with anirritable clatter. "I suppose he was trying to make love to some hotelwaitress or manicure girl or somebody.""Hang it, you're always letting on that Paul goes round chasing skirts.He doesn't, in the first place, and if he did, it would prob'ly bebecause you keep hinting at him and dinging at him so much. I hadn'tmeant to, Zilla, but since Paul is away, in Akron--""He really is in Akron? I know he has some horrible woman that he writesto in Chicago.""Didn't I tell you I saw him in Akron? What 're you trying to do? Makeme out a liar?""No, but I just--I get so worried.""Now, there you are! That's what gets me! Here you love Paul, and yetyou plague him and cuss him out as if you hated him. I simply can'tunderstand why it is that the more some folks love people, the harderthey try to make 'em miserable.""You love Ted and Rone--I suppose--and yet you nag them.""Oh. Well. That. That's different. Besides, I don't nag 'em. Not whatyou'd call nagging. But zize saying: Now, here's Paul, the nicest,most sensitive critter on God's green earth. You ought to be ashamed ofyourself the way you pan him. Why, you talk to him like a washerwoman.I'm surprised you can act so doggone common, Zilla!"She brooded over her linked fingers. "Oh, I know. I do go and getmean sometimes, and I'm sorry afterwards. But, oh, Georgie, Paul is soaggravating! Honestly, I've tried awfully hard, these last few years, tobe nice to him, but just because I used to be spiteful--or I seemed so;I wasn't, really, but I used to speak up and say anything that cameinto my head--and so he made up his mind that everything was my fault.Everything can't always be my fault, can it? And now if I get tofussing, he just turns silent, oh, so dreadfully silent, and hewon't look at me--he just ignores me. He simply isn't human! And hedeliberately keeps it up till I bust out and say a lot of things I don'tmean. So silent--Oh, you righteous men! How wicked you are! How rottenwicked!"They thrashed things over and over for half an hour. At the end, weepingdrably, Zilla promised to restrain herself.Paul returned four days later, and the Babbitts and Rieslings wentfestively to the movies and had chop suey at a Chinese restaurant.As they walked to the restaurant through a street of tailor shops andbarber shops, the two wives in front, chattering about cooks, Babbittmurmured to Paul, "Zil seems a lot nicer now.""Yes, she has been, except once or twice. But it's too late now. Ijust--I'm not going to discuss it, but I'm afraid of her. There'snothing left. I don't ever want to see her. Some day I'm going to breakaway from her. Somehow."