one basket(一个篮子)-第13节
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skin contributed to it； and the natural penciling of her eyebrows。 But the
thing that accented it； and gave it a last touch； was the way in which her
black hair came down in a little point just in the center of her forehead；
where hair meets brow。 It grew to form what is known as a cowlick。 （A
prettier name for it is widow's peak。） Your eye lighted on it； pleased； and
from it traveled its gratified way down her white temples； past her little
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ears； to the smooth black coil at the nape of her neck。 It was a trip that
rested you。
At the end of the last performance on the night of his second visit to
the Bijou； Orville waited until the audience had begun to file out。 Then
he leaned forward over the rail that separated orchestra from audience。
〃Could you；〃 he said； his tones dulcet； 〃could you oblige me with the
name of that last piece you played？〃
Terry was stacking her music。 〃George！〃 she called to the drum。
〃Gentleman wants to know the name of that last piece。〃 And prepared to
leave。
〃‘My Georgia Crackerjack；'〃 said the laconic drum。
Orville Platt took a hasty side step in the direction of the door toward
which Terry was headed。 〃It's a pretty thing；〃 he said fervently。 〃An
awful pretty thing。 Thanks。 It's beautiful。〃
Terry flung a last insult at him over her shoulder： 〃Don't thank ME
for it。 I didn't write it。〃
Orville Platt did not go across the street to the hotel。 He wandered up
Cass Street； and into the ten…o'clock quiet of Main Street； and down as far
as the park and back。 〃Pretty as a pink！ And play！ 。 。 。 And good； too。
Good。〃
A fat man in love。
At the end of six months they were married。 Terry was surprised into
it。 Not that she was not fond of him。 She was； and grateful to him； as
well。 For； pretty as she was； no man had ever before asked Terry to be
his wife。 They had made love to her。 They had paid court to her。
They had sent her large boxes of stale drugstore chocolates； and called her
endearing names as they made cautious declarations such as：
〃I've known a lot of girls； but you've got something different。 I don't
know。 You've got so much sense。 A fellow can chum around with you。
Little pal。〃
Wetona would be their home。 They rented a comfortable； seven…
room house in a comfortable； middle…class neighborhood； and Terry
dropped the red velvet turbans and went in for picture hats。 Orville
bought her a piano whose tone was so good that to her ear； accustomed to
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the metallic discords of the Bijou instrument； it sounded out of tune。 She
played a great deal at first； but unconsciously she missed the sharp spat of
applause that used to follow her public performance。 She would play a
piece； brilliantly； and then her hands would drop to her lap。 And the
silence of her own sitting room would fall flat on her ears。 It was better
on the evenings when Orville was home。 He sang； in his throaty； fat
man's tenor； to Terry's expert accompaniment。
〃This is better than playing for those ham actors； isn't it； hon？〃 And
he would pinch her ear。
〃Sure〃listlessly。
But after the first year she became accustomed to what she termed
private life。 She joined an afternoon sewing club； and was active in the
ladies' branch of the U。C。T。 She developed a knack at cooking； too； and
Orville； after a week or ten days of hotel fare in small Wisconsin towns；
would come home to sea…foam biscuits； and real soup； and honest pies and
cake。 Sometimes； in the midst of an appetizing meal he would lay down
his knife and fork and lean back in his chair； and regard the cool and
unruffled Terry with a sort of reverence in his eyes。 Then he would get
up； and come around to the other side of the table； and tip her pretty face
up to his。
〃I'll bet I'll wake up； someday； and find out it's all a dream。 You
know this kind of thing doesn't really happennot to a dub like me。〃
One year； two； three； four。 Routine。 A little boredom。 Some
impatience。 She began to find fault with the very things she had liked in
him： his superneatness； his fondness for dashing suit patterns； his throaty
tenor； his worship of her。 And the flap。 Oh； above all； that flap！ That
little； innocent； meaningless mannerism that made her tremble with
nervousness。 She hated it so that she could not trust herself to speak of it
to him。 That was the trouble。 Had she spoken of it； laughingly or in
earnest； before it became an obsession with her； that hideous breakfast
quarrel； with its taunts； and revilings； and open hate； might never have
come to pass。
Terry Platt herself didn't know what was the matter with her。 She
would have denied that anything was wrong。 She didn't even throw her
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hands above her head and shriek： 〃I want to live！ I want to live！ I
want to live！〃 like a lady in a play。 She only knew she was sick of
sewing at the Wetona West End Red Cross shop； sick of marketing； of
home comforts； of Orville； of the flap。
Orville； you may remember； left at 8：19。 The 11：23 bore Terry
Chicago…ward。 She had left the house as it wasbeds unmade； rooms
unswept； breakfast table uncleared。 She intended never to come back。
Now and then a picture of the chaos she had left behind would flash
across her order…loving mind。 The spoon on the tablecloth。
Orville's pajamas dangling over the bathroom chair。 The coffeepot
on the gas stove。
〃Pooh！ What do I care？〃
In her pocketbook she had a tidy sum saved out of the housekeeping
money。 She was naturally thrifty； and Orville had never been niggardly。
Her meals when Orville was on the road had been those sketchy；
haphazard affairs with which women content themselves when their
household is manless。 At noon she went into the dining car and ordered a
flaunting little repast of chicken salad and asparagus and Neapolitan ice
cream。 The men in the dining car eyed her speculatively and with
appreciation。 Then their glance dropped to the third finger of her left
hand； and wandered away。 She had meant to remove it。 In fact； she had
taken it off and dropped it into her bag。 But her hand felt so queer； so
unaccustomed； so naked； that she had found herself slipping the narrow
band on again； and her thumb groped for it； gratefully。
It was almost five o'clock when she reached Chicago。 She felt no
uncertainty or bewilderment。 She had been in Chicago three or four
times since her marriage。 She went to a downtown hotel。 It was too
late； she told herself； to look for a less expensive room that night。 When
she had tidied herself she went out。 The things she did were the childish；
aimless things that one does who finds herself in possession of sudden
liberty。 She walked up State Street； and stared in the windows； came
back； turned into Madison； passed a bright little shop in the window of
which taffy…white and gold was being wound endlessly and fascinatingly
about a double…jointed machine。 She went in and bought a sackful； and
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wandered on down the street； munching。
She had supper at one of those white…tiled sarcopha
