children ever commit murders, or was she correct in assuming that only grown people did such dreadful things?
Reginald thought that this was not the best time for a discussion of such serious matters; but if she was really interested, why not telephone him, or drop by his apartment for lunch some day? However, he would say now, in spite of all the giggling and confusion, that children quite often committed murders, and clever ones, too, at times. Some murderers, particularly the distinguished ones who were going to make great names for themselves, usually started in childhood; they showed their genius early, just as outstanding poets, mathematicians, and musicians did.
He paused, and in the silence Monica said distinctly, “I’ve often wondered why I married Norman Breedlove. Lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that it was his name that attracted me.” She glanced at her brother and continued. “Now, my first association to Norman is ‘normal’; after all, there’s only the difference of a consonant. ‘Normal’ is such a reassuring word. It’s the word the worried people of my generation were looking for.”
Mrs. Trellis wagged her finger and said, “Where’s the sherry? What have you done with the sherry, Emory?”
Mrs. Marcusson, who looked more like a dowdy old farmwoman in town to sell her vegetables than a woman of wealth, tilted her battered old hat with the back of her hand, and said, “I wonder what young people talk about these days? When we were young, at least we had sex and social betterment to occupy our minds. I’ve got a feeling that young people now don’t talk about anything except television and canasta.”
Monica waited tolerantly until her guest had finished, and then went on. “Now, ‘breed’ is associated in my mind with increase, and ‘love’ is associated with love, naturally. So the combination Norman Breedlove brings to mind one who would not only be well adjusted and normal, but one of constantly increasing affection, too. The thing is so simple in retrospect, although it never occurred to me at all at the time.”
Emory said, “I thought you married Norman Breedlove because he was the only man that asked you to.”
Before she could answer, he laughed and said, “Now I bet Christine with those big gray eyes and yellow hair had to beat the boys off with an umbrella.”
Christine said, “You couldn’t be more wrong. I was never popular. I was too earnest and literal for the boys.”
Mrs. Trellis began to laugh, and Mrs. Marcusson joined in the merriment. Mrs. Trellis said, “This has been such a stimulating afternoon, Monica. Now, just relax and sit back and quit worrying about how much you’re going to get out of Edith and me. You’re going to get plenty. Edith and I talked the matter over on our way here. You’re not going to get as much as you figured on, maybe—but you’re going to get quite a bit.”
Emory said in a voice audible to all, “Those three old bags are as drunk as owls. They got away with a quart and a half of sherry.” The three rose and stared at him coldly. Monica steadied herself, put on her glasses, and said, “Let’s go into the library, girls, where we can be by ourselves. We have pens and paper and blank checks on every bank in town.” They put their arms aboutone another’s waists and walked away, but as they passed through the big, old-fashioned folding doors, they turned their heads at the same moment, looked back, and screamed with laughter.
Christine put down the drink she had hardly touched, thinking:
But suppose she followed him to the end of the wharf, and Claude, rather than let her take the medal, threw it into the bay. Suppose she picked up a stick or something and hit with it, knocking him into the water, stunning him and leaving him to die there. Suppose—
She lowered her head and gripped the arms of her chair, for already despair and guilt were nibbling like mice at her mind. She got up and said she must go back
Reginald thought that this was not the best time for a discussion of such serious matters; but if she was really interested, why not telephone him, or drop by his apartment for lunch some day? However, he would say now, in spite of all the giggling and confusion, that children quite often committed murders, and clever ones, too, at times. Some murderers, particularly the distinguished ones who were going to make great names for themselves, usually started in childhood; they showed their genius early, just as outstanding poets, mathematicians, and musicians did.
He paused, and in the silence Monica said distinctly, “I’ve often wondered why I married Norman Breedlove. Lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that it was his name that attracted me.” She glanced at her brother and continued. “Now, my first association to Norman is ‘normal’; after all, there’s only the difference of a consonant. ‘Normal’ is such a reassuring word. It’s the word the worried people of my generation were looking for.”
Mrs. Trellis wagged her finger and said, “Where’s the sherry? What have you done with the sherry, Emory?”
Mrs. Marcusson, who looked more like a dowdy old farmwoman in town to sell her vegetables than a woman of wealth, tilted her battered old hat with the back of her hand, and said, “I wonder what young people talk about these days? When we were young, at least we had sex and social betterment to occupy our minds. I’ve got a feeling that young people now don’t talk about anything except television and canasta.”
Monica waited tolerantly until her guest had finished, and then went on. “Now, ‘breed’ is associated in my mind with increase, and ‘love’ is associated with love, naturally. So the combination Norman Breedlove brings to mind one who would not only be well adjusted and normal, but one of constantly increasing affection, too. The thing is so simple in retrospect, although it never occurred to me at all at the time.”
Emory said, “I thought you married Norman Breedlove because he was the only man that asked you to.”
Before she could answer, he laughed and said, “Now I bet Christine with those big gray eyes and yellow hair had to beat the boys off with an umbrella.”
Christine said, “You couldn’t be more wrong. I was never popular. I was too earnest and literal for the boys.”
Mrs. Trellis began to laugh, and Mrs. Marcusson joined in the merriment. Mrs. Trellis said, “This has been such a stimulating afternoon, Monica. Now, just relax and sit back and quit worrying about how much you’re going to get out of Edith and me. You’re going to get plenty. Edith and I talked the matter over on our way here. You’re not going to get as much as you figured on, maybe—but you’re going to get quite a bit.”
Emory said in a voice audible to all, “Those three old bags are as drunk as owls. They got away with a quart and a half of sherry.” The three rose and stared at him coldly. Monica steadied herself, put on her glasses, and said, “Let’s go into the library, girls, where we can be by ourselves. We have pens and paper and blank checks on every bank in town.” They put their arms aboutone another’s waists and walked away, but as they passed through the big, old-fashioned folding doors, they turned their heads at the same moment, looked back, and screamed with laughter.
Christine put down the drink she had hardly touched, thinking:
But suppose she followed him to the end of the wharf, and Claude, rather than let her take the medal, threw it into the bay. Suppose she picked up a stick or something and hit with it, knocking him into the water, stunning him and leaving him to die there. Suppose—
She lowered her head and gripped the arms of her chair, for already despair and guilt were nibbling like mice at her mind. She got up and said she must go back
Similar Books
