dampness, the sliding slippery airless dark came back on her now and overwhelmed her as the gaseous bubble burst in her mind, scenting it with the memory of foulness that she must escape. In the closet Holmes made up his mind to go riding anyway, whether he wanted to or not, because to hell with it and he'd take a bottle. Under the unpleasantness he dreaded he grinned back at himself. When he stepped out in fresh underwear the change in him was already apparent. The dejection and the guilt were gone and in their place was sureness. He had assumed the hangdog air of a synthetic plaintiveness that was his defense that always wrested victory from the acceptance of defeat. Karen recognized the attitude. In the mirror she could see him in his underwear, massive, hairy, legs bowed grotesquely by so many hours on a horse - at Bliss he had been the captain of the polo team - and the thick black hair on his chest padding out the T-shirt like excelsior a cushion. His face, heavy bearded, had that gross blue sensuality of a fecund priest, and the same proud-suffering air. He had only shaved below his collarline, and the black curls reached up to the shaved neck like living flames sucked up a flue. Her stomach flopped in her sickeningly, like a big fish slimy on the hook, at the sight of him who was her husband. She moved along the seat before the dressing table until she could no longer see his reflection. "I saw Colonel Delbert this morning," Holmes said. "He asked me if we were coming to General Hendrick's party." His big jaw set, watching her levelly, he moved over to where his image was before her in the mirror again, casually, as he was putting on the breeches. Karen watched him do it, knowing what he was doing now, yet still unable to keep her nerves from jangling like a plucked guitar string. "We'll have to go," he said. "Theres no way out of it. Also, his wife is having another tea; I got you out of that." "You can get me out of the other, too," Karen said, but her tone had lost its commanding air and was half-hearted. "If you want to go, go by yourself." "I cant keep on going by myself forever," Holmes said plaintively. "You can if you tell them I'm sick, which will be the truth. Let them think I'm an invalid, I'm near enough to make it ethical." "Simmons has been shipped down from football," he said. "That leaves a majority open. The Old Man told me about it, then asked if you werent coming to the party." "The last time I went to a party where he was, you remember, I came home with my gown torn nearly off." "He was a little tight," Holmes said. "He didnt really mean anything by it." "I hope not," Karen said thinly. "If I wanted a man to sleep with I'd pick a man, not that beery tub of guts." "I'm serious," Holmes said, transferring the insignia from the dirty shirt to the clean one. "Your being nice to him might mean all the difference now, since this Simmons thing has opened up." "I've helped you with your work all I can," she said. "You know I have. I've gone to parties I've hated. Its been my part of the bargain, to play the loving wife. But the one thing I wont do is sleep with Colonel Delbert for you." "Nobody wants you to. All I'm asking is that you be decent to him." "You cant be decent with a lecherous old rou6. It makes me physically sick." Unconsciously, she picked up the brush and began to brush her hair again, distractedly. "A majority is worth getting physically sick over," Holmes said, pleadingly. "A man with a majority now, if he graduated from the Point, will be a General officer when this war thats coming ends. All you have to do is smile and listen to him talk about his grandfather." "A smile, to him, is only an invitation to put his hands between your legs. He's got a wife. Why doesnt he take it out on her?" "Yes," Holmes said tautly. "Why doesnt he?" Karen winced before the accusation, even knowing it was purely theoretical. Before this melancholy suffering-lover role the nerve ends of her body vibrated
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