Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

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Madame Sophie was dramatic, she was theatrical — but even for Madame Sophie this was going pretty far. It couldn't have any real meaning. Perhaps it was a new kind of advertising stunt — but Madame Sophie didn't need to advertise! I don't believe any of it, Miriam told herself, not quite knowing what it was she didn't believe. Then, still not knowing, she asked herself: But if I don't believe it, why am I trembling like this? When the doorbell rang a short time later, she waited upstairs until she heard Alma, the maid, go to the door and admit someone. She was almost frozen at the head of the stairs, knowing quite positively that she was on the brink of one of the most terrible moments of her life . . . she had known it when Madame Sophie first spoke to her. But she didn't want to know whatever it was she was going to learn. She would have given anything to be able to turn back into her room and send down word that she was not at home. Instead, she went slowly down the stairs and into the living room. There, standing rigidly in the center of the room, she found young Nancy Campbell, the mannequin from Madame Sophie's. For a blank moment she didn't recognize the girl. Then she placed her, and came forward uncertainly. "Miss Campbell, isn't it? How—" "Don't ask me how I am! Don't be polite to me!" the girl said in a rush of words. "Let's get it over with quickly!" Miriam sat down and stared at the girl. "Was it you Madame Sophie was telling me about? Did she know you were coming here?" Nancy Campbell moved backward a few steps and found a chair. She dropped into it and put her head in her hands. "Madame Sophie made me come. She found out. I guess she's known all along. I didn't want to come — but I'm glad now!" Throwing back her head, she met Miriam's astonished eyes defiantly. "I can't go on like this any longer. If George can't get you to say what you're going to do somebody else must do it!" A wave of horror swept over Miriam; she felt as though she were drowning in it. George! This girl called him George! Again she had that desperate desire to run away, turn her back on what was coming. If she didn't face it there would never be any need to know. . . But pride kept her lips firm and her voice steady. She asked coolly, "Are you speaking of Mr. Ashley, Miss Campbell?" "You know I am." The girl was trying to match her own control. "I don't want to be — to make a scene. But is there any use in our fencing? I know George has told you everything. It only hurts all three of us for things to go on this way." "I see." Miriam looked down at her hands, lying calmly folded in her lap. They weren't trembling; neither was the rest of her, any longer. She felt almost relieved, as though she had been working over a jig-saw puzzle and had just managed to fit the last section into place. Still, it was odd to find herself in this situation. She had seen it so often in movies, read it so often in books. She could even carry on the scene in a kind of shorthand, for she was so well acquainted now with what lay behind it that nobody — not Nancy Campbell, not Madame Sophie, not George himself — was required to fill in the details. George and this girl . . . when had it started? Of course — that day with the black lace dress. Their nineteenth anniversary. George, she remembered, had been so attentive that day, his eyes bright, his manner gayer and more interested than in such a long time. And afterwards he had driven the girl downtown. . . . And after that? Still looking at her hands, Miriam could almost see it all. Those late nights when George had been working — where had they gone? Out-of-the-way restaurants, so as not to be seen? They couldn't have gone out dancing, it was so conspicious. Maybe they'd gone to the movies and held hands. Maybe on Saturday mornings they'd driven out into the country for picnics; this girl would have enjoyed that. She had, at that age. "How strange," she said aloud. "I always scoffed at what people say, that the wife is the last to know. And now, it seems, I must admit that it's true." The girl said through stiff lips, "You can't mean that. Don't lie to me. I know George asked you for a divorce and that you refused it. I came to plead with you." "A divorce!" Agitation at last brought Miriam to her feet. She began to pace back and forth before the fireplace, back and forth, more quickly as anger mounted within her. How far had this thing gone? What had George been saying — or doing? Had George conceivably told this girl he would divorce his wife to marry her? She looked down at Nancy Campbell's blonde head, and then sat down again, forcing the girl to meet her eyes. "Listen to me. I'm going to tell you the truth," Miriam said. She knew that the honesty in her words would get through somehow. It had to. "My husband never once mentioned you in this house. He never gave any indication that he was — interested in you. Miss Campbell . . . Nancy . . . please believe me. The word divorce has never been mentioned between us — except perhaps about some of our friends from time to time." Silently, they stared at one another. Then tears began to slip down Nancy Campbell's cheeks. "Madame Sophie told me that," she half whispered. "She told me not to think it. She said I was playing with fire, that I was a fool . . . but I thought she didn't know. I thought if I came and had it out with you — Oh, what shall I do now?" The girl's hands came up again to cover her face, and as she checked an involuntary movement toward her, Miriam heard the slam of the front door. She got to her feet as George flung into the room. "Oh, Lord," he said when he saw Nancy. "I see she made it. Miriam — " "If you're going to say that you don't know what to say, you're in exactly the same position as the rest of us," Miriam said sharply. "The only difference is that since this is your party, you just have to find something to say." "I know it," he said miserably. He threw his topcoat over a chair and started to walk around the room. "I've never felt more like a fool." "I can't think of any reason why you shouldn't," Miriam said. Nancy had taken her hands from her face, and