'I never,' he said and took a step forward.
'That's you men all over,' she went on.
'Her?' he protested. He had gone quite white. 'Why you're crackers. That two pennorth of French sweat rag?'
'Now you're being disgustin' dear.'
'I can't make you out,' he said coming towards her.
'No,' she cried, 'you stop where you are. I'm goin' to punish you. What d'you say if we took this for when we are married? How would I look eh Charley?' And she held that nightdress before her face.
'Punishment eh?' he laughed. If it had been a spell then he seemed to be out of it for the moment. That's all you girls think of. Why holy Moses,' he added as if trying to appear gay, 'that piece of cobweb ain't for us.'
'Don't you reckon I'd look nice in it then?' She lowered the nightdress till he could see she was pouting.
'You'd appear like a bloody tart,' he said, then broadly smiled. She stamped her foot.
'Don't you swear at me of all people Charley. '
'O. K.,' he said.
'Why,' she went on, returning to the charge, 'not above a minute or two ago you were puffin' like a grampus.'
'What's a grampus honey?' he asked and looked a bit daunted. 'Wouldn't you like to know?' she teased him. 'I can't make out why you want all this mystification,' he said. 'Honest you've got me so I'm anyhow.'
'An' so you should be Charley dearest.'
'Oh Edie,' he gasped moving forward. The room had grown immeasurably dark from the storm massed outside. Their two bodies flowed into one as he put his arms about her. The shape they made was crowned with his head, on top of a white sharp curved neck, dominating and cruel over the blur that was her mass of hair through which her lips sucked at him warm and heady.
'Edie,' he muttered breaking away only to drive his face down into hers once more. But he was pressing her back into a bow shape. 'Edie,' he called again.
With a violent shove and twist she pushed him off. As she wiped her mouth on the back of a hand she remarked as though wondering, 'You aren't like this first thing are you?'
This must have been a reference to the fact that when she called him with a cup of tea in the mornings he never kissed her then as he lay in bed. Or he must have understood it as such because, standing as he was like he had been drained of blood, he actually moaned.
'Why,' he said, 'that wouldn't be right.'
'Don't you love me in the early hours then?'
'Sweetheart,' he protested.
'With me carryin' you a cup of tea and all?'
'Well it's usually half cold at that,' he said, seeming to pull himself together.
'Oho,' she cried and began to do her hair with Mrs Jack's comb. 'Then I won't bring no more.'
'I'd been intending to speak to you about that very point,' he began shamefaced. 'I don't know that you should continue with the practice. It might lead to talk,' he said.
'Charley you don't say I'm not to,' she appealed and seemed really hurt. 'Why, don't you like me fetchin' your tea?'
'It's not that dear.'
She turned vast reproachful eyes on him.
'I was kidding myself you would fancy me above any other to open your eyes on first thing,' she repeated softly grumbling.
'It's the rest,' he moaned.
'Just because I'm keeping myself for you on our wedding night you reckon they'd think you're free with me?' she asked as though he had hit her.
'Well that's what would happen isn't it, being as they are?' he enquired.
'Oh Charley,' she went on gentle but reproachful, 'that's cowardly so it is?'
'You know I love you don't you?' he entreated and took hold of her hands. She was limp.
'Yes.'
'Well then,' he went on, 'we don't want no chitter chatter do we?'
'You mean no one shouldn't know in case you change your mind about our being married?' she asked. There was laughter now in her voice.
'What's comical in that when you've just spoken a lie?' he demanded.
'All right then I'll not bring your old tea again that's all.' She laid her arms round his neck and gave him a powerful kiss. Putting his hands against her shoulders he pushed her away.
'You said yourself we were on a good thing an' didn't want to lose this place,' he explained.
'I never imagined you could do without me pulling your curtains. So the first you set eyes on every new day should be me.'
'I love you that's why honey,' he said.
'O. K.,' she said, 'but you're to do the explainin' with Mother Burch mind.'
'That's a good girl. Holy smoke,' he exclaimed, 'an' there's my lad forgotten to lay their table I'll be bound. I'll be seeing you,' he said. He fairly stumbled out.
Some days later Mrs Jack unexpectedly entered the Blue Drawing Room to find her mother-in-law in tears beneath a vaulted roof painted to represent the evening sky at dusk. Mrs Tennant immediately turned her face away to hide her state. She was seated forlorn, plumb centre of this chamber, on an antique Gothic imitation of a hammock slung between four black marble columns and cunningly fashioned out of gold wire. But she had not concealed her tears in time. Mrs Jack saw. She went across at once.
'Why you poor thing,' she said rubbing the point of Mrs Ten-nant's shoulder with the palm of a hand.
'I'm sorry to make such a fool of myself Violet,' this older woman said from between gritted teeth and got out a handkerchief.
'I think you've been perfectly wonderful dear,' Mrs Jack suggested.
'Really I don't know how your generation bears it,' Mrs Tennant went on. She blew her nose while Mrs Jack stood ill at ease.