But what right have I to talk? My life is a waste
too."
Little by little I learned from her what her life had been, what its
central impulse was. She was a poor girl who hungered for opportunity.
She had looked with critical eyes upon marriageable men. I wondered if
she had been attractive to many men, if many had had the discernment to
see what she was. If a young woman marries an elderly man of wealth it
is probable that no young man of wealth has come to her at the favorable
hour; and probable, too, that no man of merely compelling magnetism has
been interested in her. Mr. Winchell was kindly, a noble nature; he gave
her a tender, but only a paternal love. But through him she had
traveled; she had had the beauty of life for which her heart was
insatiable. There were no children; there never would be children, and
what lavish, ecstatic affection she bestowed upon my Reverdy! So day by
day I learned that she was a teacher in Connecticut when Mr. Winchell
came along, willing to give her everything if she would marry him. He
had been rather a heavy drinker up to this time, now five years before;
when he left off drink for awhile. Then he had begun again, but rarely
indulged to excess. It may be that drink had emasculated him before he
married her; but now if because of this he tippled occasionally, he was
justified in medicine which dulled feelings that he could not be a
husband to this radiant woman, who treated him always with such
tenderness and devotion, always honored him with such scrupulous
attention.
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