Undertow by Kathleen Thompson Norris
page 95 of 142 (66%)
page 95 of 142 (66%)
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"Why do you say that, Bert?" she might ask, with violent self-
control. "Nothing, my dear, nothing!" Bert would return to his newspaper, or his razor. "I was just thinking. No matter!" Nancy would stand, eyeing him sulphurously. "But just what do you mean, Bert?" she would pursue. "Do you mean that you don't think I should have gotten the suit? I can't wear that fur-trimmed suit into the summer, you know. The hat was eighteen dollars--do you think there's another woman in the Gardens who pays no more than that? Lots of men haven't four lovely children and a home to support, they haven't wives who make all their friends welcome, as I do. Perhaps you feel that they are better off? If you don't--I don't see what you have to complain about. ..." And she would take her own way of punishing him for his air of detachment and superiority. Bert was not blameless, himself. It was all very well for Bert to talk of economy and self-denial, but Bert himself paid twelve dollars a pair for his golf-shoes, and was the first man at the club to order champagne at the dance suppers. Smouldering with indignation, Nancy would shrug off her misgivings. Why should she hesitate over furs and new hangings for the study and the present for the Appletons, when Bert was so reckless? It would all be paid for, somehow. "And why should I worry," Nancy asked herself, "and try to save a few cents here and there, when Bert is simply flinging money right |
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