U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [439]
"It's too bad about Ol ie," said Nat. "He's one of the besthearted fel ers in the world."
"Poor old Ol ie," echoed Charley. "He's lost his grip." There was a knock on the door. It was Gladys, her little face pale and goldenhaired and wonderful ooking in the middle of an enormous chinchil a col ar. "Charley, we've got to go. You naughty boy, I don't believe you've looked at the presents yet."
She led them into an upstairs sittingroorn stacked with glassware and silver table articles and flowers and smoking-sets and toiletsets and cocktailshakers until it looked like a departmentstore. "Aren't they sweet?" she said. "Never saw anythin' like it in my life," said Charley. They saw some guests coming in at the other end and ran out into the back hal again. "How many detectives have they got?" asked Charley. "Four," said Gladys.
"Wel , now," said Charley. "We vamoose."
"Wel , it's time for us to retire," chorused Farrel and Nat suddenly doubled up laughing.
"Or may we kiss the bride?"
"Check," said Charley. "Thank al the ushers for me." Gladys fluttered her hand. "You are dears . . . go away now."
Charley tried to hug her to him but she pushed him
-304-away. "Daddy's got al the bags out the kitchen door. . . . Oh, let's hurry. . . . Oh, I'm almost crazy."
They ran down the back stairs and got into a taxi with their baggage. His was pigskin; hers was shiny black. The bags had a new expensive smel . Charley saw Farrel and Nat come out from under the columns of the big colonial porch but before they could throw the confetti the taxi-driver had stepped on the gas and they were off. At the depot there was nobody but the Wheatleys, Mrs. Wheatley crying in her baggy mink coat, Mr. Wheatley orating about the American home whether anybody lis-tened or not. By the time the train pul ed out Gladys was crying too and Charley was sitting opposite her feeling miserable and not knowing how the hel to begin.
"I wish we'd flown."
"You know it wouldn't have been possible in this weather," said Gladys and then burst out crying again. To have something to do Charley ordered some dinner from the diningcar and sent the colored porter to get a pail of ice for the champagne.
"Oh, my nerves," moaned Gladys, pressing her gloved hands over her eyes.
"After al , kid, it isn't as if it was somebody else. It's just you and me," said Charley gently. She began to titter. "Wel , I guess I'm a little sil y." When the porter grinning and respectful y sympathetic opened the champagne she just wet her lips with it. Char-ley drank off his glass and fil ed it up again. "Here's how, Glad, this is the life." When the porter had gone Charley asked her why she wouldn't drink. "You used to be quite a rummy out at the countryclub, Glad."
"I don't want you to drink either."
"Why?"
She turned very red. "Mother says that if the parents get drunk they have idiot children."
"Oh, you poor baby," said Charley, his eyes fil ing with
-305-tears. They sat for a long time looking at each other while the fizz went out of the champagne in the glasses and the champagne slopped out onto the table with the jolting of the train. When the broiled chicken came Gladys couldn't eat a bite of it. Charley ate both portions and drank up the champagne and felt he was acting like a hog. The train clanked and roared in their ears through the snowy night. After the porter had taken away the supper-dishes Charley took off his coat and sat beside her and tried to make love to her. She'd only let him kiss her and hug her like they'd done before they were married. When he tried to undo her dress she pushed him away. "Wait, wait." She went into the lavatory to get into her nightdress. He thought he'd go crazy she took so long. He sat in his pyjamas in the icy gritty flaw of wind that came in through the crack of the window until his teeth were chattering. At last he started to bang on the door of the toilet. "Anything wrong, Glad? What's the matter, darlin'?" She came out in a fluffy lace negligee. She'd put on too much makeup. Her lips were trembling under the greasy lipstick. "Oh, Charley, don't let's tonight on the train, it's so awful like this."