All the King's Men - Robert Penn Warren [127]
“Leave Adam out of it, leave him out–” she said, and thrust her hands, palms out as though to press me off, but I wasn’t in ten feet of her–“he does something anyway–something–”
“–and Irwin down there playing with his toys, and my mother up there with that Theodore, and me–”
“Yes, you,” she said, “you.”
“All right,” I said, “me.”
“Yes, you. With that man.”
“That man, that man,” I mimicked, “that’s what all the people round here call him, what that Patton calls him, all those people who got pushed out of the trough. Well, he does something. He does as much as Adam. More. He’s going to build a medical center will take care of this state. He’s–”
“I know,” she said, wearily, not looking at me now, and sank down on the couch, which was covered by a sheet.
“You know, but you take the same snobbish attitude all the rest take. You’re like the rest.”
“All right,” she said, still not looking at me. “I’m snobbish, I’m so snobbish I had lunch with him last week.”
Well, if grandfather’s clock in the corner hadn’t been stopped already, that would have stopped it. It stopped me. I heard the flame hum on the logs, gnawing in. Then the hum stopped and there wasn’t anything.
Then I said, “For Christ’s sake,” And the absorbent silence sucked up the words like blotting paper.
“All right,” she said, “for Christ’s sake.”
“My, my,” I said, “but the picture of the daughter of Governor Stanton at lunch with Governor Stark would certainly throw the society editor of the Chronicle into a tizzy. Your frock, my dear–what frock did you wear? And flowers? Did you drink champagne cocktails? Did–”
“I drank a Coca Cola, and I ate a cheese sandwich. In the cafeteria in the basement of the Capitol.”
“Pardon my curiosity, but–”
“–but you want to know how I got there. I’ll tell you. I went to see Governor Stark about getting state money for the Children’s Home. And I–”
“Does Adam know?” I asked.
“–and I’m going to get it, too. I’m to prepare a detailed report and–”
“Does Adam know?”
“It doesn’t matter whether Adam knows or not–and I’m to take the report back to–”
“I can imagine what Adam would say,” I remarked grimly.
“I guess I can manage my own affairs,” she said with some heat.
“Gee,” I said, and noticed that the blood had mounted a little in her cheeks, “I thought you and Adam were always just like that.” And I held my right hand up with forefinger and the next one side by side.
“We are,” she said, “but I don’t care what–”
“–and you don’t care what he–” and I jerked a thumb toward the high, unperturbed, marmoreal face which gazed from the massy gold frame in the shadow–“would say about it either, huh?
“Oh, Jack–” and she rose from the couch, almost fretful in her motion, which wasn’t like her–“what makes you talk like that? Can’t you see? I’m just getting the money for the Home. It’s a piece of business. Just business.” She jerked her chin up with a look that was supposed to settle the matter, but succeeded in unsettling me.
“Listen,” I said, and felt myself getting hot under the collar, “business or not, it’s worth your reputation to be caught running round with–”
“Running round, running round!” she exclaimed. “Don’t be a fool. I had lunch with him. On business.”
“Business or not, it’s worth your reputation, and–”
“Reputation,” she said. “I’m old enough to take care of my reputation. You just told me I was nearly senile.”
“I said you were nearly thirty-five,” I said, factually.
“Oh, Jack ,” she said, “I am, and I haven’t done anything. I don’t do anything. Not anything worth anything.” She wavered there and with a hint of distraction lifted her hands to touch her hair. “Not anything. I don’t want to play bridge all the time. And what little I do–that Home, the playground thing–”
“There’s always the Junior League,” I said. But she ignored it.
“–that’s not enough. Why didn’t I do something–study something? Be a doctor, a nurse. I could have been Adam’s assistant. I could have studied landscape gardening. I could have