PAGE 6
The Married Man
by
“‘I hope you slept well,’ I ventured, miserably.
“‘I did not! Her apartments were ‘way up at the top of a big, high building; and, just as I got to sleep, there was a frightful banging at the door, and a man–a drunken man, evidently–shouted to be let in. “Tom,” he howled, “Tom, get up! Let me in! I want to see you; it’s important. Let me in!” Now, of course, there was no “Tom” there, so I just lay quiet, frightened to death, however; and, at last, the drunken brute went away. But I did not sleep a wink, thanks to you and your indifference toward my safety, and your devotion to creatures who get black eyes. Oh, I’ll tell your wife! I’ll let her know!’
“We were under a street-lamp, and I pulled her to a stop, turning her around, so that the light shone squarely on her face.
“‘Maud,’ I said, and I shook my forefinger at her, ‘you will not tell my wife. You will be a good and humble young woman during your stay with us; yes, you will. You will be very discreet and very forgiving. If you are not, I shall tell your husband that you spent last night in the apartments of my friend Tom, your old lover.’
“And did you ever see a woman blush, my boy?–not the blush she puts on at will, but a blush that is genuinely in earnest–a blush she cannot help. I had my revenge as I watched her blush. She blushed in seven colors–every color in the spectrum. Then she turned loose on Tom–an honorable fellow, poor devil, sleeping in that cold garret for her sake–and scourged him for telling me.
“But I stopped her with the information that I was the drunken brute who had banged on the door, to which I added the fiction that I had seen her go in.
“Well, we patched up a truce before we reached home, and we are good friends to-day. Tom married her, after her husband died; and, to this day, he is somewhat embarrassed in my presence, feeling, no doubt, that I do not forgive his heartlessness to me on that night. I cannot explain, and, somehow, his wife will not. I don’t know why, unless it is because she has a generous streak in her makeup, and thinks that it will involve revelations concerning the person with the black eye.”
“And could you not convince Mrs. Milner of the truth of the affair?” I asked.
“Tried to–tried hard–but she did not believe me; or, at least, said she did not.”
“And did you ever see the interesting widow again?”
“Many times–but she never saw me!”
We smoked, silently–he, straight-faced and reminiscent, I, smiling over the story he had told.
“May I tell this experience to the girl over yonder?” I asked.
“Well, yes; but, as I never told my wife, put the girl on her honor not to repeat it. It may help you in your adjustment of your married life; it may convince her that a man can be trusted out of his home.”