anybody.â
âNo, I donât believe it. And Iâm fond of him, too. And Iâd like to have children. I always thought weâd have children.â
She looked at me very brightly. âI never liked children much, but I donât want to think Iâll never have them. I always thought Iâd have them and then like them.â
âHeâs got children.â
âOh, yes. Heâs got children, and heâs got money, and heâs got a rich mother, and heâs written a book, and nobody will publish my stuff, nobody at all. It isnât bad, either. And I havenât got any money at all. I could have had alimony, but I got the divorce the quickest way.â
She looked at me again very brightly.
âIt isnât right. Itâs my own fault and itâs not, too. I ought to have known better. And when I tell him he just cries and says he canât marry. Why canât he marry? Iâd be a good wife. Iâm easy to get along with. I leave him alone. It doesnât do any good.â
âItâs a rotten shame.â
âYes, it is a rotten shame. But thereâs no use talking about it, is there? Come on, letâs go back to the café.â
âAnd of course there isnât anything I can do.â
âNo. Just donât let him know I talked to you. I know what he wants.â Now for the first time she dropped her bright, terribly cheerful manner. âHe wants to go back to New York alone, and be there when his book comes out so when a lot of little chickens like it. Thatâs what he wants.â
âMaybe they wonât like it. I donât think heâs that way. Really.â
âYou donât know him like I do, Jake. Thatâs what he wants to do. I know it. I know it. Thatâs why he doesnât want to marry. He wants to have a big triumph this fall all by himself.â
âWant to go back to the café?â
âYes. Come on.â
We got up from the tableâthey had never brought us a drinkâand started across the street toward the Select, where Cohn sat
smiling at us from behind the marble-topped table.
âWell, what are you smiling at?â Frances asked him. âFeel pretty happy?â
âI was smiling at you and Jake with your secrets.â
âOh, what Iâve told Jake isnât any secret. Everybody will know it soon enough. I only wanted to give Jake a decent version.â
âWhat was it? About your going to England?â
âYes, about my going to England. Oh, Jake! I forgot to tell you. Iâm going to England.â
âIsnât that fine!â
âYes, thatâs the way itâs done in the very best families. Robertâs sending me. Heâs going to give me two hundred pounds and then Iâm going to visit friends. Wonât it be lovely? The friends donât know about it, yet.â
She turned to Cohn and smiled at him. He was not smiling now.
âYou were only going to give me a hundred pounds, werenât you, Robert? But I made him give me two hundred. Heâs really very generous. Arenât you, Robert?â
I do not know how people could say such terrible things to Robert Cohn. There are people to whom you could not say insulting things. They give you a feeling that the world would be destroyed, would actually be destroyed before your eyes, if you said certain things. But here was Cohn taking it all. Here it was, all going on right before me, and I did not even feel an impulse to try and stop it. And this was friendly joking to what went on later.
âHow can you say such things, Frances?â Cohn interrupted.
âListen to him. Iâm going to England. Iâm going to visit friends. Ever visit friends that didnât want you? Oh, theyâll have to take me, all right. âHow do you do, my dear? Such a long time since weâve seen you. And how is your dear mother?â